Alchemist: The Seventh Avenger
by Seven-Shades-of-A
Summary: It's been months since Freyja left, but Earth is far from safe. When a mysterious woman with strange powers begins working as a vigilante across the country, even saving Steve Rogers' life on one occasion, SHIELD looks into the matter. But as Steve is sent to a home full of humans very different from the norm, he finds that his Earth isn't the only one. (A Magda Eisenhardt Story)
1. Prologue

_**Hi, everyone! **_

_**One day, I will write a story that doesn't begin with a prologue. Today is not that day...**_

_**So, this is a companion to **_**The Renascentia Trilogy****_. It takes place roughly midway through _****HeartFrost****_ and tells of what exactly the Cap was getting up to that Tony mentioned in Chapter 15. This story will mostly focus on Steve, but we'll see the rest of the characters, as well. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!_**

**_Theme of the Book: Reborn ~ Max Cameron_**

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

It was the night of the new moon. It was also late into the night. Two signs that the young girl walking home from the end of her shift should have taken her friend's offer to take her home. But she hadn't wanted to give him any false hope that she was interested in him, so she had declined. She should have known better.

The streets were dark due to the broken lights lining the sidewalks. Few cars passed by and even fewer people were out. So when the girl passed to close to a seemingly empty and was pulled into the shadow by a large hand, no one noticed the change.

Another hand clapped over her mouth as she made to scream. She couldn't tear away from the grip and, as she felt the cold touch of metal under her chin, she began to go still in dread. Hot breath ghosted over her neck as the man lowered his head to whisper in her ear.

"I'm gonna take my hand away but if you scream, I'll kill you. Do you understand?"

She nodded her head, tears beginning to run down her face. He pushed her against the brick wall roughly, his hand falling from her face to pull a dark rag from his pocket. Hiccupping sobs escaped her throat as she began to realize there was no escape. A hand snapped across the side of her face and she fell silent. The man stuffed the rag into her mouth and grinned crookedly. She shivered in disgust as his fingers closed around the waistband of her jeans. It was over. And she knew it. But both froze at the sound of a voice.

"Ray Irving. Adding another notch to your belt, are you?"

The man, Irving, looked over his shoulder and the girl caught a glimpse of the voice's source.

Leaning against the wall opposite of them, stood a woman roughly five and a half feet. She was relatively slender and hardly imposing in her black hooded jacket and form-fitting pants. A few dark waves fell from her hood and only her lips and half of her nose were visible. And yet, despite the almost fragile look to her, there was something off. Something about the woman radiated with power.

"How do you know my name?"

The mystery woman straightened up, pulling what looked like a file from a pocket inside her jacket, "I've been chasing you for a few weeks now, Ray. You certainly know how to disappear."

"The hell are you talking about?"

"Twenty-seven cases of rape, all linked to a man with the same eagle-handled knife and a funny scar on his hip. You've evaded the police for so long, they've almost given up hope. A shame they didn't notice the pattern."

Irving's eyes narrowed on the woman, "Clever girl. But still stupid enough to think you could change anything."

"You'd be surprised. I'm not at all like you," the woman said with a smirk, replacing the file with a pair of handcuffs. "Now. I'll give you a choice. You can either let this woman go and cuff yourself or you can try to fight me and thoroughly humiliate yourself."

She tossed the cuffs at Irving and he watched them in amusement before returning his attention to the woman. Pushing his victim aside, he charged at the lithe woman and raised his knife. Before he could come within three feet of her, he suddenly stumbled and glanced down at the pavement. It was as if the asphalt had converted to liquid, encasing his legs up to his mid-calf.

She approached him quickly, kicking him hard in the mouth with the black army-standard combat boots she wore. He swiped at her with his knife, but her hand closed around the blade as it was as sharp as a letter opener. The metal turned red and the man screamed as it burned his skin, letting go of the handle. The blade itself melted in her hand, the handle falling to the floor with a resounding clatter.

As he struggled to escape the liquid asphalt he was trapped in, the woman walked over to the discarded handcuffs and back to stand before him. Irving struck her hard across the cheek as she kneeled before him. The woman hardly flinched and the man pulled his now bloodied and broken hand back with a sharp yell.

She grabbed his wrist roughly and cuffed his hands together. With an angered snarl, she yanked him out of the asphalt and over to the fire escape. Irving's victim, who had been too scared to move, watched in awe as the woman's hand, and the chain on the handcuffs, slid _through_ the metal pipe on the fire escape's ladder. She gave him one final punch, something looking suspiciously like a tooth falling to the floor, before returning her attention to girl cowering against the opposite wall.

The woman approached her slowly, hands raised as if to show that she was unarmed. She kneeled in front of the girl, taking hold of her shoulders gently.

"Did he hurt you?"

Suddenly, hysteria flooded the girl's mind and she began to stutter out her thoughts.

"I didn't see him – what did you do…? I can't believe – oh, God."

"Are you hurt?"

"You're not human!"

"Do you wanna go out for drinks?"

Stunned by the sudden strange question, the girl stopped short, "What?"

"Are. You. Alright?" she asked, enunciating each word carefully.

Slowly, the girl nodded in answer.

"Do you have a phone on you?"

The girl's eyes darted towards her discarded purse laying a few feet away. Nodding in understanding, the woman helped her to her feet before retrieving the handbag.

"Good. Call the police and let them know where you are," she commanded, thrusting the bag into the girl's arms.

The girl dug through her purse shakily, pulling her phone out. She never took her eyes off the woman, watching as she stuffed the files she had held earlier into Irving's leather jacket. He flinched away from her but she didn't acknowledge the movement. A second later, she pulled what looked like a tarot card out of her pocket and dropped it at his feet.

The girl gazed at the woman in wonder, "Who are you?"

Though the woman looked up, half of her face was still obscured, "Like you said: not human."

The girl watched as the woman walked out of the alley without another word, her hands stuffed into her pockets. Curiosity getting the better of her, she glanced over at the card left at Irving's feet. It looked hand-painted, a woman holding a book in one hand and a beaker in the other dominated the surface. A red ribbon was painted onto the bottom of the card, curling gold lettering written across the scarlet. From where she stood, the girl could just barely make them out.

_The Alchemist_.


	2. Chapter One

_**Hey, everyone. Sorry about the long wait. I wasn't entirely certain how to start this one. This one is a couple hundred words shorter than I had originally planned, but I couldn't force it any longer. Anway, I hope you all enjoy.**_

_**Thanks to Sammisis, Marvel-Tolkien Fangirl, and LeilaSecretSmith for adding this story to their alerts/favorites. Special thanks to Marvel-Tolkien Fangirl for the very first review.**_

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

_"There are no coincidences in life. What person that wandered in and out of your life was there for some purpose even if they caused you harm. Sometimes it doesn't make sense the short periods of time we get with people or the outcomes from their choices. However, nothing is too small to be a mistake." _

_― Shannon L. Alder_

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><p>Steve winced as jagged cement dug into his back. The blue-skinned humanoid leapt closer, his green and sliver armor glinting in the sun. A high-pitched screeching came from its mouth and the ex-soldier fought the urge to wince at the sound. Lunging for his shield, Steve launched the disc towards the alien. Its knees buckled as part of the vibranium embedded itself into the beast's neck. Steve wrinkled his nose as he pulled it from the alien's throat, studiously ignoring the voices he could hear through his earpiece.<p>

Ever since Freyja had left Earth just after her battle with Thanos, all sorts of hostile aliens had been making their way to the planet. From shape-shifters taking the places of several authority figures to these blue-skinned goliaths, they flocked to Earth like moths to a flame. Worse still was the fact that no messages could get through to Asgard. Freyja had sent a message through some sort of magic that something problematic was occurring, but hadn't elaborated. The message was still burned into the walls of Stark Tower, much to Tony's irritation.

The fact still stood that they were on their own with the rising extraterrestrial problems. Gazing around him at the carnage being made, Steve gave a sharp inhale as he was blindsided. Something cold and sharp tore through his skin at the base of his skull deep enough to draw blood. He spun on the balls of his feet, head spinning more at the sudden movement, and slammed the shield into the creature's face.

They were faster than most humans. Stronger, too. They're movements were smooth and precise as if born, bred, and raised to be warriors. Even with the super serum, he could barely keep up. It took a good deal of effort just to keep the aliens at bay. But it wasn't enough. Something bit into his waist and another sharp pain shot through his left calf as two different blades carved their way through his flesh. Through the earpiece, the words of his companions suddenly caught his attention.

"Stark, was that you?" Clint's voice asked.

"Nope. Opposite side of the city, remember?" the billionaire replied. "You threatened to report my unfiled paperwork to Fury if I didn't follow orders."

"Was it Bruce?" Natasha inquired.

"Too small," the archer returned. "It's going your way."

"I see it. Do you think-"

"Probably. You know her pattern."

"What are you going on about?" Stark demanded, sounding almost exasperated.

"Classified, Sta-"

"What the hell is that?"

"Steve, are you hearing this?"

Steve grimaced as he just narrowly dodged a swinging sword, "Kind of hard not to, Natasha."

"Well, she's heading in your direction. Keep on your toes. We don't know if she's an ally or enemy yet."

Steve frowned at the sentence, bringing his shield up to block another blow, "I'm a bit preoccupied for that."

A sharp cry left his lips as something hard collided with his stomach, sending him flying backwards once more. He was just vaguely aware of more of the blue extraterrestrials closing in. It was when he was picking himself off the floor, tensing for another attack, when he saw just what the others had been talking about.

She landed between him and the aliens, the concrete beneath her feet cracking slightly. He couldn't see her face, but could still make out the petite figure beneath the black, hooded jacket and pants. She didn't seem like anything Natasha and Clint would usually worry about, but his confusion disappeared when she raised a hand towards the creatures. There was the sound of a small explosion as a wall of flames rose between her and the line of beasts.

Steve shielded his face with a hand as a blast of heat flew backwards towards them. When she turned to face him, he found he couldn't see more than her lips and the tip of her nose.

"Need a hand, Captain?" she asked, offering out her own.

With only a second's hesitation, Steve took it and stood up. Even less could be seen of her face as he towered a good four inches over her, but she didn't look up to meet his eyes. Her hood remained curved over most of her face. She waved her hand and the flames before them dissipated.

"Watch my back, will you?"

Before he could reply, she leapt over the lowering flames and into the now crowded group of aliens. He watched for a few seconds in awe as the very air around her shimmered, the view reminiscent of the desert sky. Blades melted around her before they could touch her skin. In anger, one of the creatures lashed out at her. But she caught its hand in a tight grip. The rest of the creatures backed away with surprised hissing while the one she held shrieked in pain as keloids and chemical burns began forming across his extended arm.

"Any time now, Captain," she said as she let go of the beast and drew his face into her knee.

Snapped back into reality, Steve rushed into the fray created as the aliens converged upon the woman. Fist and shield swinging, he attempted to fight his way through to the woman. Powers or not, she couldn't possibly hold off so many of these creatures. He exclaimed in surprise as the floor seemed to melt beneath his feet once he had gotten within four feet of her. He sunk down until he was up to his knees in melted concrete. Trying to move closer, he felt as if he was wading through quicksand.

It was more difficult to attack and defend himself in the liquid, but the aliens were apparently having the same difficulties. Swords flew towards him in precise arcs, but the movements were hindered and he easily blocked them. When he could see the woman again, he realized only the ground around her had remained solid, a few of the aliens vying for room to stand on the little island of pavement.

She fought without style or form, relying merely on instinct and speed as she dodged the falling blades and dealt blows of her own. One hand fell upon an alien's helmet, causing it to screech as it was suddenly crushed beneath the rapidly falling metal. He pulled himself out of the mire as he approached the edge, slamming his shield into the head of another alien. She turned to face him, nodding in thanks before she continued fighting.

Steve lost sight of all she was doing, too preoccupied by the steady motions he moved in while fighting. It was almost as if he was back in World War II…if the Nazis had been blue, anyway. Black blood splattered across his suit, barely staining the now all-navy outfit. He grimaced at the substance, punching another one hard enough to break bone.

"Duck!" the woman suddenly yelled.

Instinctively, Steve dropped to the floor, shield held over his head to take the brunt of whatever was approaching. Instead of a blow, he saw the woman hold her hands before her as if holding something round. A spark ignited between her hands before growing into a strange, writhing substance that glowed bright in midair. She grit her teeth and allowed the energy to be released. It seemed to explode, red light bursting out around her.

Not expecting the force that came with the wave of light, Steve tumbled backwards and across the once-again solid ground. He just barely caught a glimpse of the woman being tossed backwards by the explosion, as well. Remembering his trained, he rolled into a crouch and sprung to his feet the second he was able. Shocked cries, pained exclamations, and angry yells erupted from behind him as he grappled with the few aliens still standing.

Slamming one hard into the wall behind it, there was the sickening crunch of bones breaking. He turned to face the last one before him, pushing the button on his earpiece just before he attacked.

"How's everyone holding up?"

"And now Mr. Preoccupied wants to start up a conversation," Tony snapped, the sound of metal on metal in the background.

"We're fine," Natasha answered. "Is the woman still with you?"

"Yes," he answered, glancing over as she turned one of her attackers into a pile of dust.

"Good. Try to keep her there, will you?" Clint asked. "We're almost done here."

"I'll do my best," he offered, breaking the nose of the alien before him.

There was silence as each of them returned to the fight. As he leapt away from a blow, Steve noticed the woman had doubled over slightly, her hand wrapped tightly across her torso. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line as if fighting back pain. Slamming his shield into the alien's head, unsure of whether it collapsed from death or unconsciousness, he threw it like a discus at the creature slowly approaching the woman.

It lodged into the beast's lower back with a squelch loud enough to make a weaker man sick and the creature fell to the floor with a crash. There was an instant where both he and she simply stared down at the creature with a mixture of relief and shock on their faces.

He suddenly straightened up, the realization that the last remaining extraterrestrial had fallen brought him back to his senses. His breath was coming in long, labored pants and he felt the weariness that came once the last of the adrenaline faded. Glancing up, his blue eyes met the half-covered face. She, too, seemed to be spent from the skirmish, her posture falling slightly.

"Thanks," she said between breaths.

He waved a dismissive hand at her, "It was my pleasure."

His gaze fell a little lower as she shifted her stance until he caught sight of her pulling a blood-covered hand away from her torso. Shock overwhelmed him as he realized the side of her jacket was torn and stained darker with fresh blood. She seemed to follow his gaze and immediately pressed her hand hard against the wound.

"You're hurt," he said, taking a step forward. "I can get you to S.H.I.E.L.D., patch you up…"

His words waivered into silence as she suddenly turned and ran in the opposite direction.

"Wait!" he called, chasing after her.

She jumped over the dead bodies of aliens and splashed through puddles of black blood as she turned into one of the dead-end alleys. Steve raced after, quickly catching up to the woman. He found her glancing around at the walls in what could have been dismay. She turned to face him as he stepped closer, holding out a hand in warning.

"I just want to help you," he said. "Return the favor."

He tensed as her hand slipped into her pocket and pulled something out. It flew out of her hand with impossible precision, nicking his cheek. He exclaimed wordlessly in surprise before ignoring the stinging sensation and took another step towards her.

But she took a step back and Steve was forced to marvel at what occurred. Instead of hitting the bricks behind her, she slid _through_ the wall. It was as if it melted around her, allowing the woman to pass clean through. It only took a fraction of a second, but Steve saw every movement with precise detail as if time had slowed. For a full minute, he stood still before moving tentatively towards the wall and placing a hand against it. But it was as solid as he had previously believed.

When he turned around, he saw what had cut his face. A card the size of his palm sat on the ground just beyond where he had been standing. Kneeling down, Steve picked up the card. It bore a hand-painted woman on the face, a beaker and a book in each hand. _The Alchemist_ was written across the top in an elegant script.

"Steve," Clint said through his earpiece. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," he answered breathlessly, pocketing the card.

"The woman, you saw her?"

"Yes."

"Spoke to her?"

"Yes. She didn't have much to say."

"Is she still there?"

"No."

"Where did she go?" Natasha demanded, breaking Clint's silence.

He shook his head in disbelief, "I don't know. I had her cornered in an alley, but she sunk through a wall."

There was silence from both spies before Tony decided to speak up.

"What do you mean 'sunk through a wall'?"

"I don't know how to explain it," he replied. "She just…fell through. As if she wasn't real."

"…So, what? Steve's new friend is a ghost?"

"We need to notify Fury. Add walking through walls to the list," Clint announced.

"What list? Who was this woman?" Tony inquired, sounding a bit irritated at being left out of the loop.

"Steve, you'll need to report to Fury when we get back to the Helicarrier," Natasha stated, pointedly ignoring Tony's questions. "There's a quinjet waiting on the street you just left."

"Right," he answered. "I'm on my way."

Steve removed the earpiece before Tony could finish his protests about no one letting him know just what was going on. He imagined the genius was probably threatening to hack into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s systems _again_ to find out. And Natasha would no doubt return the threat with a much more creative incentive to leave well enough alone. He truly didn't want to hear a repeat of a conversation long since overused.

A quinjet was, indeed, waiting for him in the street. The loading door opened to reveal a familiar agent with receding brown hair. The man offered a smile which Steve returned politely.

"I thought you were assigned to a long-term project," he asked as he stepped into the jet.

Coulson gave a shrug, "Director Fury called me back for the time being. Said he had something important to brief me on."

"Does it have anything to do with that woman we just saw?"

"Most likely," the agent answered.

The short trip up to the Helicarrier was filled with conversations of what had gone on since they had last seen each other. Coulson told him about the time spent in Tahiti and tracking down the Centipede before Steve explained Freyja's arrival and her battle with Thanos. The agent seemed surprised to hear the trickster god that had nearly put him in a grave had been, and still was, in love with the Vanir goddess. But, then, everyone had been surprised to hear that. Everyone except Thor.

"Seems strange to think he was in love like anyone else," the agent commented. "Almost makes him seem more human."

"You should have seen her when she spoke to me about what he did in New York. It turns out he was being mind-controlled like Clint."

Coulson frowned, "That would explain why he didn't seem all that motivated."

Steve nodded, hands gripping the armrests beside his seat as the quinjet landed. Both walked out of the jet and towards the door leading to the inside of the Helicarrier.

"Apparently he and Freyja are working things out. She sent a message a while back saying there was trouble in Asgard."

"What's trouble to a god?"

Steve shrugged, "I don't know. It must really take up her time since she didn't send an astral projection to tell us."

Coulson raised his eyebrows at the term, but didn't question it. Steve may still have not quite grasped everything the 21st century entailed, but he was a quick learner and remembered much of what he was told. So Freyja's explanations of magic had made a bit more sense to him. When they entered the main deck inside, Agent Hill called Coulson away and the two said their farewells.

Though he took up residence in a floor of Stark Tower, Steve knew his way around the Helicarrier well enough to tell where Fury's office was. The few agents he knew nodded to him as they passed in the halls. He wouldn't say the agents were more than acquaintances, but they were friendly enough. The Director was waiting at his desk, reading over some form or other. He gestured for Steve to take a seat, not yet looking up.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Stark seems to think he can get away with not sending in his paperwork."

"Sir?"

Fury looked up at last, putting aside his pen, "Agent Romanoff tells me you've seen our mystery hero."

"The hooded girl?"

Fury nodded, "Did she leave anything?"

Steve pulled out the card he had taken from the alley and placed it on the desk. Fury turned it around so he could see it before pulling open a drawer and tossing something next to it. Steve leaned forward to see another card almost completely identical to the first. If it hadn't been for the slight difference, perhaps a slip in the hand holding the brush, he wouldn't have been able to tell the difference.

"The woman you just met is only known as 'the Alchemist'. It's uncertain as to whether she is the result of an underground experiment or something similar to Freyja's species. Appearing in places to help stop small-scale crimes is her MO."

"Her what?"

"_Modus Operandi_, a habit of operating," Fury answered. "She incapacitates murderers, rapists, thieves, and the like, leaves a card, calls the cops, and disappears by the time anyone arrives.

"Then why would she help us? This wasn't a store robbery or something small. What drove her down here?"

"No one knows. We've been attempting to track her whereabouts for nearly a year now."

"What do you mean 'attempting'?"

Fury gave a sardonic chuckle, "Her escapades range from Seattle to San Antonio and Miami. There's no pattern in her appearances and seemingly no particular reason for her to be there. We haven't found so much as an ID to match her. But, we've learned she's not the only one."

Steve frowned in confusion, "The only one of what, sir?"

"We don't know. Tell me what you can about the Alchemist. Did she say anything to you?"

"Not much," he answered, unhappy with the Director's dismissive reply. "She didn't seem too keen on talking. We were in the middle of a fight…"

"What about her powers?"

Steve gave an exasperated look, "She could control fire, melt weapons without touching them, phase through things, almost as if she wasn't real, mmm… she gave one of the aliens chemical burns."

"Chemical burns?"

"Skin started melting away, spots popped up…"

"Radiation poisoning," Fury murmured, frowning thoughtfully. "She was wearing all black and a long hood, correct?"

Steve nodded, "Yes, sir."

"Did you see her face? Her eyes? Anything that could narrow down who we're looking for?"

"No, her face was almost completely covered. Director, if she helps stop crimes, why are you looking for her?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. monitors all potential threats to this world and the human race."

"But you've said she just catches the convicts and leaves. In my time, that was something to be applauded for, not hunted."

"But we can't be certain she'll always be helpful. Who's to say she won't decide to turn?"

"Then shouldn't the punishment wait until after she commits a crime, if she does so at all?"

"We need to neutralize the threat before it arrives."

"Is that why she ran when I mentioned S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

Fury seemed to tense for a second, "We've had no contact with her."

"And yet she still went running when I said the medics here could help her," Steve pointed out, growing uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation.

"I can't speculate about the motives behind her actions. Is there anything else you remember about her? Anything that could help us find her?"

Steve stood up and walked towards the door, turning just before he left.

"When she was fighting those aliens, she wasn't using a technique. Watching her was like watching a street fight. She doesn't have any form of training," he stated, meeting Fury's gaze evenly. "I wouldn't peg her as much of a threat, powers or not."

Without another word, he left the office. The door slammed shut behind him, making his final thoughts known.


	3. Chapter Two

**_Hey, everyone! Sorry for the long wait. My muse just didn't want to help with this chapter. Anyway, new characters are going to be introduce in the next chapter! Hope you all enjoy this part. I'll try to update sooner this time. Thanks for waiting patiently!_**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

_"__If you have to keep a secret it's because you shouldn't be doing it in the first place" _

_― __David Nicholls_

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><p>The agent came to with a pained groan. His head throbbed from whatever had happened to catch him unawares. Shock rippled through him as he tried to move his arms and found them bound behind him. His eyes glanced over his surroundings quickly as he tried to assess the situation. Across from him, a door slid open and the woman he had been tracking walked in.<p>

She wore the same hooded jacket she had worn in all the pictures he had been given. He strained against his bonds, unintelligible groans escaping through the gag tied around his mouth. She pulled the cloth away before turning the empty chair across from him around and taking a seat.

"Sorry for the wait," she stated amiably. "I had to make sure no one else was with you."

"What do you want?"

She scoffed, "I think I'm the one who needs to ask that question. You're the sixth agent sent after me in two months. Did your boss really think I wouldn't notice the people in black trailing me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he lied.

The air seemed to take on an uncomfortable compressing sensation. The agent coughed slightly, feeling as though something was pressing against his ribcage.

"Don't lie to me," she warned. "I've let your people off without so much as a scratch. Despite what your boss may believe, I have a life to worry about. Bills to pay, mouths to feed, jobs to work. I don't have time to comb my trail for any stragglers."

"I don't think you realize that I have no clue what you mean."

"Really?" the woman snapped, pulling his S.H.I.E.L.D. ID card from his pocket and glancing inside. "This says differently. You people have some thick skulls. I want you to go back to whoever sent you, and I want you to tell him to stop looking for me."

"Or what?"

The woman stood up abruptly, her fingers brushing lazily over his right hand. The agent grit his teeth in pain as angry red welts bloomed across his skin. His breathing became short and shallow as the marks traveled up his arm.

"I'm tired of having to constantly look over my shoulder," she snapped. "You tell your boss that I'm not his enemy unless he forces me to be."

Her hand grasped the back of his neck tightly and his back arched off the chair as pain rippled through his body. His pants turned into gasps as he struggled to stay conscious.

"I don't want to have to hurt anyone, but that doesn't mean I'm not capable."

Her hand left his skin and she kneeled before him. As he gazed up in exhaustion, he managed to see two stormy gray eyes. They almost looked conflicted, angry and grieving and scared. His jaw went slack in surprise. He had been expecting a strong and powerful woman who wasn't afraid to kill. Instead, he saw just how young her shadowed face was.

"Unbelievable," he muttered.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, "What?"

"Under all that bravado," he said with a shaky laugh, "you're just a terrified girl. You're barely older than I am, aren't you?"

A fist slammed against his cheek and he tasted blood as his teeth closed down on his tongue.

"Well, _Agent Ward,_ I have a message for S.H.I.E.L.D. Next time I find one of your agents trailing me," she warned. "I'll give him or her stage four cancer."

She left without another word, the steel door closing with a resounding slam. Ward glanced up with a satisfied smirk before the amusement was overpowered by the lingering sting in his new wounds. He tilted his head slightly to reach the wire on the inside of his suit and spoke.

"Did you get all that?"

"Every word," Coulson replied.

"Do you think we have enough for voice recognition?"

"Skye's running it now," the older agent answered, pausing slightly. "How are you feeling?"

"Like my skin's melting off. How long will it take for the team to get in here?"

"May will be there in five minutes. Did she take your ID?"

"Yes, sir. We should have a location soon."

There was another pause before Ward spoke up again.

"Is Director Fury really going to send someone after her? She seems to be harmless except when provoked."

"We'll send Agents Romanoff and Barton to watch her, see if we can find a way to bring her in without angering her."

Ward nodded, though he knew Coulson couldn't see him, "My sympathies for the poor sap they send in to retrieve her."

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><p>It was nearly a week later when Steve found himself in the gym room, or rather gym floor, of Stark Tower. The section of the floor which Steve was in had been specifically designed for him. Holograms of Nazis, Tony's personal idea, appeared at random and charged towards or around him. He flung his shield at the holograms, causing them to shatter into pixels as it flew through them and bounced off the walls. A thin sheen of sweat had coated his skin and his shirt stuck to his chest.<p>

Still he pushed himself harder, channeling all of his frustration at Nick Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D. into each swing of his shield. He hated being in the dark, hated not knowing what made this unfamiliar world work, hated not being sure if he was doing the right thing or not. But he couldn't seem to do anything about it. So he trained harder, despite not needing to.

Suddenly noticing movement out of the corner of his eyes, Steve swung around and flung the shield in the direction of the shape. He only had an instant to register a certain philanthropist's eyes widening before the rather slender superhero ducked as the vibranium disk flew by. It ricocheted off the wall and hit another hologram before Steve managed to catch it again.

"Jarvis, shut off the simulator, please."

The holograms immediately dissipated and Tony stood up cautiously.

"Watch where you're throwing that thing, Spangles," Tony snapped. "I'd like to keep my head."

"Sorry," he answered automatically. "What is it you wanted?"

The dark-haired genius leaned against the wall, "Jarvis says your stress level has been through the roof since our last mission."

Steve raised an eyebrow, "You're having Jarvis monitor my health?"

"My apologies, sir," the butler's voice suddenly piped up.

"What has your spandex in a knot?" the billionaire pushed on.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.," he said with sigh, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Tony raised his eyebrows, "Finally realize it's not quite as clean as they've been leading you to think?"

"Something's off about this whole Alchemist business. There's something Fury's not telling me."

"Alchemist? That whole clandestine hero-girl mix-up last week?"

Steve nodded, "Fury says there's very little information on her, but she seems to know us."

"There's always a quick way to tell if he's lying," Tony hinted with a knowing smirk.

"Just how many times have you hacked into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database?"

Tony gave a dismissive wave, "Enough for Fury to hire a new programming team. Twice."

Steve sighed in resignation, "How much can you find?"

The grin on Tony's face was almost enough to scare him off, "Let's see. Jarvis, start the new program, will you?"

"_Bond 2.0, sir?_" Jarvis asked as they walked out towards the elevator.

Steve frowned at the name, knowing he had heard it before. But he couldn't place it. He had missed so much of what had happened while he was frozen that it was taking forever to catch up on everything. Pulling his notepad and pencil out of his jacket pocket, he quickly scrawled 'Bond' along one of the clear lines. His eyes slid over the ever-growing list of terms, names, and movies he had missed. It had been Natasha's idea to write everything and he had found it useful beyond measure.

Replacing the notepad in his pocket, Steve followed Tony out of the elevator and into his expansive labs. Holographic screens floated around the room like ghostly mirrors. Every flat surface, including some of the floor, was covered in everything ranging from a wide array of pens to scribbled-on papers to scraps of metal and tools. A few of Tony's robots rolled across the floor, one brandishing a fire extinguisher.

Much to Steve's confusion, Tony eyed this particular drone with a skeptical expression as they walked by. It was almost as if the billionaire was expecting the robot to attack them. As he reached one of the screens, a face popped up in front of the loading symbol. It was an almost unassuming face, pale and smooth with short-cropped hair that was very nearly white and eyes that were close to the shocking blue Freyja's had been. It was the face Tony had recently given Jarvis, and the AI had taken to it well.

"How much longer?" Tony asked, spinning in his chair like a child.

"Two-point-three minutes, sir," Jarvis replied. "What is it you're looking for this time?"

Tony looked to Steve with a questioning glance and the super soldier cleared his throat.

"Anything on a woman known as 'The Alchemist'."

The AI nodded before frowning slightly.

"I apologize for the delay, but there seems to be something blocking this information."

"There's something blocking it?" Tony repeated blankly. "Like what?"

"A virtual wall, sir," Jarvis deadpanned.

Steve had to fight back a smirk at the playboy's unamused expression. It seemed that Jarvis was becoming more and more sarcastic with each passing day. Not that anyone within Stark Tower seemed to mind. Anyone who could knock Tony down a notch, even if he didn't technically exist, was welcome to do so.

"How long will it take you to override their defenses?"

"Not long."

In reality, it only took thirty more seconds. Files and folders began flooding the holographic screen as Jarvis dug through the encryptions and defenses S.H.I.E.L.D. had put up in vain. There were several grainy video feeds along with extensive notes and reports and a handful of blurred photographs of a woman in all black. By the time the files began to slow to a stop, Jarvis had filled up six screens with information. Tony's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline as both Avengers glanced over the six screens.

"How well did Fury say he knew this woman?"

"He didn't," Steve answered, awed by the information on the screens.

Tony gave an appreciative whistle, "It's like he's an obsessive ex. Jarvis, can you thin it down to the basics? Powers, personal information, risk level?"

"Of course, sir," the AI answered as half of the screens went blank and the remaining half emptied to a few dozen pages.

The two men approached the screens, taking a closer look at the files. The pages were filled with observations and inferences. The information ranged from possible identities to likely whereabouts in relation to her various escapades. Beside Steve, Tony shook his head in surprise.

"This girl has quite the list of powers. Radiation, pyrokinesis, matter manipulation, intangibility…"

Steve froze as he came across another list, this one much more impressive. It listed names of agents, some of whom Steve knew personally, who had come in contact with the Alchemist.

"Pull up the files related to both the Alchemist and these agents, please," he said, catching Tony by surprise.

Several new pages appeared over the original files, closely followed by video recordings of debriefings. The last one to appear began to play of its own accord. It revealed a solemn-faced man with black hair combed back from his face. Angry red marks were visible just beneath his collar.

"State your name for the record," an unfamiliar voice announced.

"Agent Grant Ward," the man answered automatically.

"Your assignment?"

"Shadow the possible threat known as 'the Alchemist'."

"Your analysis?"

The man, Ward, sighed before looking back up into the camera, "The Alchemist has shown no more potential capabilities than she has before. She seems reluctant to kill, though she doesn't hesitate to hurt. If anything, she just wants to be left alone, allowed to continue her work without interference."

There was a pause before the agent spoke up again, this time his words earnest rather than simply stating facts, "In all honesty, sir, I think something's bothering her. She seems to have a motive behind her actions. When you look at her, you can see guilt. Something weighs her down and, as far as I can tell, she just wants to make up for that. She's protecting someone, too. It's why she wants us to back off. There's someone she goes home to that she doesn't want us to find."

"But is she a threat?"

"Undeterminable," he replied shortly.

"Agent Ward," the interrogator implored, "we need to know whether or not she is a threat to society."

"The Alchemist has the potential to be a dangerous enemy should she turn on us," Ward admitted grudgingly. "With her capabilities and strength, she could easily take out a city if she wanted to. But she shows restraint and I don't think she'll actually hurt a civilian. If we keep hounding her, though, she's going to end up losing her patience. And I'd hate to see her angry."

The video ended and Steve and Tony were left staring at the unmoving hologram as they took in the information. Slowly, Steve mentally replayed what Agent Ward had said.

"Jarvis, when was the first debriefing like this one?" Tony asked quietly.

"Almost eight months ago, sir."

Steve blinked in surprise, recalling what Fury had told him at his own debriefing. Anger boiled up beneath the surface as he began to contemplate just how far the Director was going.

"He lied," Steve muttered curtly.

"Who? Ward?"

The captain shook his head, "Fury. He said they had no contact with the Alchemist. It sounds like they've been on her trail for a while now."

"Fury always lies," Tony replied. "He's the king of lies. I've said it once, I'll say it again: his secrets have secrets. You can't trust him."

"This is the organization that's supposed to be protecting people. Why would they provoke a problem where there isn't one? Why would they lie over something like this?"

"That's the modern world for you, Capsicle," Tony said grimly. "When we want something really bad, we lie."

* * *

><p>Back at the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, Phil Coulson watched the projected screens on the window with a grim finality. Footage of the Alchemist fighting in various locations played in loops. It was a little known fact throughout the organization that Coulson was, in fact, the man spoken to when a psychological evaluation was needed. He could read people like books and he was supposed to be searching for an answer in the footage.<p>

Knowing the question he was supposed to answer would have made things much easier for the senior agent.

If he was being completely honest with himself, he wasn't too keen on what Fury was planning to do with the information he had. As far as he had seen, the woman in the videos just wanted to be left alone. From what he had seen and heard, she was coarse, reclusive, and borderline antisocial. But it wasn't a natural disposition for her. Something had caused her to become this way. That much, Coulson was sure of.

And he was sure of so little these days.

The door behind him slid open with a soft _whoosh_, but Coulson elected not to glance behind him. He could recognize Nick Fury's long stride anywhere. The Director came to a stop right beside him, his remaining eye focusing on the videos Coulson was staring at.

"You said you had important news?"

Coulson nodded, "Yes, sir."

"And?"

"Skye managed to locate the Alchemist's base of operations with the tracker planted on Agent Ward's ID card."

"What did you find?"

"She's a few hundred miles outside of Misty Grove, Montana. The address comes up as a hospitality house for the homeless."

"The Alchemist is running a homeless shelter in Montana?"

Coulson shrugged, "Seems to fit with her usual methods. Helping people, that is."

"She put Ward on injury leave for at least two weeks," Fury pointed out.

"We shouldn't pursue her. The risks are too high. She seems to respond most positively when left to her own devices."

"We can't just leave her be," the Director snapped. "She's a walking nuclear reactor. We need to find out just what she wants."

"Infiltrating her home would be a suicide mission. We both know that."

Fury pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation, "I can't argue with the World Security Council."

"There was a time when you fought them with everything you had," the agent pointed out. "What happened?"

"They're threatening to replace me if I don't look into this Alchemist business."

Coulson stopped short, the words he had been prepared to say dying on his tongue. He tore his eyes away from the footage, but Fury wouldn't return the gaze.

"Why?"

"You've been updated on the Freyja files."

"Yes."

Fury gave a wan smile, "I kept her presence here unknown to the Council."

Coulson blinked in surprise, "Why would you do that?"

"Thor asked me to. He said it would be wiser if fewer people knew she was here. But it can be difficult to hide an entire alien invasion."

"They can't replace you," Coulson said automatically. "You're the only person keeping this organization from capsizing."

"Which is exactly why I'm sending someone in. Any suggestions as to whom?"

"Steve," Coulson answered automatically.

Fury finally glanced at the agent, thinly veiled surprise evident on his face, "You said this was a suicide mission, and now you want to send Captain Rogers, you're favorite war hero, in for it?"

"Steve has the necessary social skills for this mission," Coulson explained. "If there's anyone who might be able to keep the Alchemist on good terms with us, it's him."

"He can't know what his mission is."

Coulson gave an almost sardonic laugh, "And what do you suggest we tell him? That he's infiltrating and gathering intel on a potential ally?"

"We'll tell him that we've found a possible asset of Hydra."

"He won't forgive us if he finds out we're lying," Coulson muttered. "And he'll certainly never trust S.H.I.E.L.D. again. We could be losing a valuable ally."

"We don't have another choice. Unless you'd send Barton and Romanoff."

"If we sent them in, she'd realize what was going on and we'd have a bigger threat to deal with."

"Then call him in."

"This isn't a good idea."

"Neither was the Avengers Initiative, and that one worked out well."

"That's different."

"How so?"

"I supported that plan fully."

Fury allowed himself a small, amused smile as Coulson waved his hand and the videos closed down. He turned and walked away without another word. A little voice in his head whispered over and over that this was a bad idea. Just as he made to walk out the door, he turned one last time to look at the Director.

"Oh, and sir, if this plan leads me to get stabbed again, I'm asking for a pay raise."


	4. Chapter Three

**_Sorry for the long wait, guys. Life has been getting in the way, so none of my stories have really been getting any attention. But I pushed through this chapter because I wanted to get to the fun part. You may recognize some of the characters shown in this chapter and later ones. But ten points to whoever can figure out who Bali is. Anyway, I should probably make it known once more that this story takes place after the Christmas chapter in _****HeartFrost. ****_Just in case any of you missed the earlier memos. Enjoy!_**

* * *

><p><em>One who deceives will always find those who allow themselves to be deceived."<em>

_-Niccolo Machiavelli_

* * *

><p>Steve walked through the halls of S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters with the stiffness of someone who was not particularly comfortable in his surroundings. But then he was far from completely happy with what the organization was doing of late. He hadn't been able to sleep that night and had, instead, spent many hours poring over any and every file Jarvis could find on this mysterious Alchemist. Mostly, there was repeated information from several agents throughout an eight-month period. They only knew a handful of her powers, her habits, and speculation of her ethnicity, identity, and history.<p>

The most detailed reports noted an overlying New York accent that gave way to something reminiscent of Eastern Europe when she was under emotional duress. The least fascinating actually held one point that none of the others had: that she had shown deeply-rooted psychological signs of abuse. The author of the report had been Natasha Romanov herself. And, come to think of it, Steve hadn't seen the woman since the alien invasion.

But Tony had told him, or rather had Jarvis tell him, that Fury had sent several messages requesting Steve to come in. Though the genius had left out much of the message, resorting to quite a bit of incoherent ramblings and slang which most certainly weren't from the 1940's, Steve had gathered that it was for another mission.

When he entered the Director's office, Steve found Agent Coulson was standing grimly behind Fury. There was a tightness to his expression that the ex-soldier didn't find comforting. Nick Fury had his hands steepled before him, as if he, too, was uncomfortable with the situation. Out of force of habit, Steve remained standing at attention before Fury motioned for him to sit down. Before he could make a remark on the tense silence, Fury asked the one question Steve had least expected.

"How do you feel about Montana, Captain?"

"I, uhm, I've never been there, sir," he answered hesitantly.

"First time for everything," the Director remarked, sliding over a file. "We're sending you to Misty Grove, Montana."

Steve flipped open the folder to find a few photographs of several people of ages varying from fifteen to late sixties exiting a large mansion-like house surrounded by trees. There were copies of proof of ownership for the house, applications for college, and a few résumés. As far as he could tell, it was a house full of people with no blood relation but who were still supporting each other.

"What is this?" he asked.

"Most records state it's a hospitality home," Fury explained. "But the agents we've sent to monitor it have reported it to be something else entirely."

"With all due respect, sir, how is this important? It resembles more of an orphanage than a threat."

"One of our agents recently reported oddities such as high levels of nuclear radiation, humanoid projectiles moving at speeds that nearly match that of sound, what seems to be auric energy, if the samples Freyja allowed us are reliable."

Steve's eyes flashed up to meet Fury's hard gaze, "This is about the Alchemist, isn't it?"

Fury sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "There is a possibility that she may be among the inhabitants-"

"Haven't you antagonized her enough?" Steve demanded. "As far as we know, she just wants us off her trail. What has she done that has you up in arms? Save people? Catch criminals? She deserves a medal, not harassment."

"She's a highly dangerous, possibly non-human being with volatile powers," Fury pointed out. "We just need to make sure she won't become a threat."

"I thought S. .L.D. was made to protect people. I didn't realize that protection came at the expense of someone innocent."

"We've found evidence that the Alchemist may be a part of HYDRA," Coulson said suddenly, causing Steve to snap his attention to the agent.

"You think the Alchemist is part of HYDRA?" the super-soldier asked slowly, shocked by the words.

"There was a known member in town a couple days ago," he answered, looking Steve straight in the eye with a blank expression. "We need to be sure if she is their ally. And if that is the case, we'll need to eliminate the threat."

Steve paused, thinking about what had been said. The Alchemist, whatever her real name was, didn't seem to be doing any harm. But if he had learned anything about the new world he had woken up into, it was that nothing was as it seemed. It was possible that she was manipulating the situation in her favor. And could he really sit back idly while a possible ally of HYDRA was out and about with inexplicable powers?

"If it's only to determine a potential threat…" he muttered hesitantly.

Fury nodded, "All we need is proof as to whether or not she is affiliated with HYDRA. If this was all a coincidence, we'll offer her aid, maybe ask a few questions, and leave her alone."

Steve nodded in understanding, "So long as we leave her be if she's not a threat, I'll go. When do I leave?"

"As soon as Agent Barton finishes prepping the Quinjet."

* * *

><p>Steve gazed exasperatedly at the overcast sky as the rain fell in cold sheets. It soaked through his winter coat and khaki pants easily, chilling him to the bone, as he walked away from where the Quinjet had dropped him off. The thick trees surrounding the dirt lane did little to stop the downpour. And the hospitality home which was allegedly the Alchemist's home was roughly a mile up the winding hillside road.<p>

He had next to nothing with him, just the clothes on his back and one of Tony's ridiculous phones to keep in touch with Clint and Natasha. Both of the assassins were stationed in town to keep a close eye on things, though they would not have any contact with each other. From the minute he set foot in Montana, he was Steve Callaghan, a New York native who had been hitchhiking since he finished college. It had taken a lot of arguing to convince the agents to let him keep his first name and his birth state as part of his alias. But they had conceded that it would be easier for him to remember. They had even gone so far as to dye his hair a dusty black and given him a more modern hairstyle.

As Steve trekked further up the road, his shoes began to stick in the mud and he squared his shoulders against the rising wind. Though he could see very little in the storm, he thought he could make out a figure walking beside the rising creek ahead. She seemed perfectly at ease without anything to shield her from the rain. If anything, she almost looked like she was enjoying it.

"Excuse me!" he called, hoping his voice would carry despite the winds.

The woman turned around, stopping fully to gaze at him with wide eyes. Before he could say anything else, she took a step back. Steve could see it before the incident actually occurred. He rushed forward, extending a hand, but the ground had given way where she stepped and the woman slipped into the creek. The woman gasped as her head broke through the surface and was quickly pulled back under by the current.

Forgetting all reservations, Steve leapt into the creek after her. It was deeper than he had originally though and the currents threatened to drag him under the raging waters as well. Ice seemed to settle in his bones, causing him to be ripped back into a past where his plane had pummeled through the depths of the sea. He shook his head to disperse the thoughts, reminding himself that it was not 1945, and he pushed towards the woman who still struggled to stay afloat.

As he reached out to grasp her wrist, the woman's attention snapped to him. Her dark hair was plastered to her face, but he could make out brown eyes blown wide with fear. He tugged her closer until she was practically hugging his chest as he tried to swim towards the bank. Somewhere above them, Steve could hear a voice calling out a name. Another blind grab found the ex-soldier hanging onto a branch of a fallen tree.

"Hannah!"

Steve glanced up to see a tall, hulking figure with black hair kneeling down towards them. The stranger reached out with a hand as he tried to hang on himself.

"Take my hand," he ordered.

Steve glanced up into the silver eyes, seeing the worry within them, and took a chance. He pushed himself forward and took hold of the man's hand. With Steve struggling to push himself up against the slippery bark and the man pulling them out of the water, all three collapsed onto the muddy banks on the side of the creek. The woman immediately leapt towards the stranger, pressing herself against him as he enveloped her in his arms.

"I fell – I just slipped – the water – oh, God," she said between gasps.

"It's alright. You're safe now," he murmured back, glancing up at Steve as he got to his feet. "Thank you."

"It was no problem," the Avenger answered, extending his hand. "The name's Steve Callaghan."

The man took it with a smile, "Bali. Well, that's what everyone calls me."

Bali glanced over their ruined clothes, which were waterlogged and caked in mud, before gesturing up the hill, "Why don't you come with us? I can lend you some clean clothes, get you dried off."

"Thanks."

"It's the least we can do," he remarked. "If you don't mind my asking, what brought you way up here?"

"I've been hitchhiking across the States," the lie stumbled across his tongue rather awkwardly in response to the man's generosity. "But I heard there was a decent place to stay up here."

Bali laughed, and Steve noticed the soft smile that crept onto the woman's, Hannah's, face, "I think someone gave you the wrong directions, friend. The only thing up this road is our house."

Steve frowned, "There's not a hospitality home?"

"There used to be," Hannah muttered, meeting his gaze. "It went bankrupt and we bought the place."

"Steve, how'd you reach the bank in that creek?" Bali asked suddenly.

"Same as you would," Steve said hesitantly, wondering where the man was going. "I swam."

"You must have some kind of speed and stamina," the man said with an appreciative whistle. "I don't know a single man who could do what you did. More people have drowned in that creek than I can count."

Steve gave a nonchalant shrug, his eyes travelling past Bali to the large manor-like house ahead of them. It looked to be a handful of decades old with quite a bit falling apart on it, but the warm glow of lights from the windows and the swing and bikes lying about gave the place a welcoming feel. It simply radiated with the sense that it was someone's home.

Bali gave a sheepish grin, "She's a bit of a fixer-upper, but I'm working on that. I should warn you, though, I've got a lot of guests in there. The more the merrier. That's my philosophy."

Steve smiled, "That's fine."

As they stepped into the light emanating from the windows, Steve got a better look at Bali. He had seen a distant photo of the man before when Natasha and Clint were briefing him on the details of the mission. But in person, there was something that almost seemed familiar about him. Something in his strong jawline elegant features, and silver eyes struck him as someone the Captain had seen before.

The door swung open to reveal a fifteen-year-old boy with shaggy, pale hair and a pair of aviators slipping down his nose.

"What happened to you?" he asked before turning his attention to Steve. "Who's the male model?"

"Courtesy, Pietro," Hannah chided, looking unhappy with the boy's tone. "This is Steve. He pulled me out of the creek after I fell in. So be nice."

"Nikki's on her way home," he announced.

"Nikki has more important things to worry about than me."

"You disappeared," the boy said, moving aside as they walked in. "And you know she always worries about you."

If the outside looked as though it had taken a beating, the inside of the house looked as though it had lost the fight. Possibly once pale beige, but now a rather filthy tan with strange scorch marks in areas, carpet was pulled up in areas to expose the foundation beneath. The patterned wallpaper, which seemed to change with each wall, was peeling from the ceiling down. The TV in the room to the right had a large crack across the screen, setting off the crooked coffee table and fraying couch nicely.

"We're renovating," Bali explained with an embarrassed smile.

Steve shook his head, remembering his own measly apartment back during World War II, "It looks homey."

"Make yourself comfortable," Hannah said, gesturing towards the couch. "I'll look for something that might fit you."

Steve smiled in thanks and moved to sit on the sinking armchair shoved against the wall. Bali slumped into the couch corner closest to the Captain and sighed in relief. His peace was short-lived, however, as Pietro walked over and prodded him with a thin finger.

"How long is he staying?"

"That depends," Bali answered, glancing Steve's way. "You don't have anywhere to stay, do you?"

"No."

"How long have you been hitchhiking?"

"Sorry?"

"You said you've been hitchhiking across the country."

"I forgot I told you that," Steve said with a laugh. "It will have been five years next month."

"That's a long time. Some would say you're running."

Steve shrugged, "Just thought I'd go sight-seeing."

Bali nodded, "So, that speed and stamina of yours, when'd you notice it?"

"He's a mutant?" Pietro asked suddenly, perking up immediately.

"A what?"

Bali threw the boy a stern look, his eyes taking on a stormy edge, before turning back to Steve, "So much for tact. What you did, Steve – dragging Hannah out of that creek – that's not something normal people can do."

"I was running on adrenaline."

"I told Nikki it would begin to happen here," Bali said with a shake of his head. "Adrenaline can't compensate for that. Your strength is probably the result of a genetic mutation. It's not too uncommon, just another step in human evolution. Each mutant manifests powers which are unique to them, setting them apart from the rest of humanity."

"How come I've never heard of them before?"

"We keep a low profile."

All three turned to see Hannah, who had changed into a loose-fitting sweater and jeans, making her way into the living room with an armful of clothes. She placed the pile on the coffee table and sat down beside Bali as she began to pick at a few of the articles.

"You and Bali are around the same height and build," she noted, pulling out a navy tee. "I hope you don't mind hand-me-downs."

"Not at all," Steve answered with a grateful smile.

"The bathroom's down that hall, first door on the right."

Taking the information as a dismissal, Steve pulled a few clothes at random and walked off in the direction of the bathroom. A sharp, wordless exclamation echoed out of the small room as he opened the door. Staring out at him was a vaguely humanoid in shape with indigo skin, yellow eyes, a tail, and pointed ears poking out of his dark hair. In a two-fingered hand, he held what looked to be a make-up brush. For a full minute, the two stared at each other before the boy began to yell in what sounded to Steve like very angry German.

"Get out!" the boy yelled when he finally spoke in English. "Knock, learn to knock. Out, out out!"

Steve muttered an apology as the door slammed in his face.

"Nobody told you the door doesn't lock?"

A girl of roughly seventeen gazed out at him from further down the hallway. She leaned against the wall in a bored fashion, but her eyes carefully watched his every move.

"Was that-?"

"That was Kurt," the girl said, interrupting him. "I'm Hisako."

"Nice to meet you," he answered. "I'm Steve."

A door opened and shut past the living room and Steve heard another voice wander through the rooms.

"Guys, I'm home. And I brought pizza."

Immediately, the door swung open and out ran Kurt. Steve had to take a step back to avoid the boy and soon found himself in the path of ten other mutants coming from up the stairwell. Much to his relief, none of them seemed to be anything other than human. He followed the crowd out to a rather ramshackle dining room consisting of several tables of different heights pushed together alongside mismatched wooden chairs. Several teenagers were cluttering around a woman holding three pizza boxes.

Though she smiled warmly at the others, her movements were careful never to brush against any of them. Her dark brown hair was pulled away from her face in a messy bun, a few wavy locks falling out. She was young, most likely in her early thirties, but there was something jaded in her expression as if she had seen too much or worked too hard.

"Alright," she laughed. "I've got cheese, pepperoni, and veggie. You each get two slices."

As she passed out plates, she glanced up and noticed Steve, her smile falling slightly, "Who are you?"

The words came out cold and barbed, as if he was invading her home. And, he supposed, he was. He got the immediate feeling that this woman was not like Hannah. Hannah had been open, polite, and compassionate. This woman, who had seemed so empathetic when her attention was on the teenagers around her, seemed closed-off and distant as she looked up at him.

"Steve Callaghan," he answered automatically.

Bali rested an arm across his shoulders, "He saved Hannah from drowning. And he's one of us."

The woman stopped short before glancing at the kids and back up, "Kitchen. Now."

Without another word, the woman turned and walked through the closest door. Bali offered an apologetic expression and motioned for Steve to follow him. The two walked in to see the woman was leaning against the counter.

"How is he one of us?" she asked immediately, the disbelief clear in her voice. "We haven't been able to contact Dmitri in a year."

"It's happening here," Bali explained. "I told you it was likely to happen, Nikki. If it was possible in your-"

"Even if it is, why now? Why is it so slow here?"

"Chaos theory."

Nikki sighed in defeat before looking at Steve, "If Bali hasn't already told you, this place is a safe haven for mutants. He seems to think you're one of us, and he's a very good judge of character. Somehow, you found your way to us."

"An act of fate if I've ever seen one," Bali piped up. "You don't have a home, and this house is for homeless mutants."

Steve gaped for a minute at the implication, "Those kids out there don't have families?"

"They did once," Nikki said somberly. "But when you're born with green skin or wake up one day with the ability to control someone's mind, people tend to look at you like you're a freak. Most of those kids out there were runaways. I found them and brought them here."

"How come I've never heard of mutants before?"

Bali and Nikki exchanged glances before they returned their attention to Steve.

"It's late," she announced sharply. "And that answer takes a lot to wrap your head around. There's a spare room upstairs. It's the only door without some sort of decoration on it. You can sleep there."

Steve nodded in understanding and Nikki began to walk towards the door once more. Before she left, she turned to Bali.

"Do you think you can manage without me?" she asked. "I have to be at work at five in the morning."

"I take care of them all day," he laughed. "And Remy should be home soon."

"Thanks."

Bali shook his head, "Sometimes I worry about her. She works too hard."

"She doesn't seem too happy that I'm here."

"Nikki takes a little while to warm up to," he explained. "You should have seen when I first came here. Especially when Hannah and I took a liking to each other. But I suppose that's what older siblings are for."

"She and Hannah are sisters?"

"Yes. They're the ones who own this house."

Steve nodded, looking down at the clean clothes still in his hand, "I should go change."

Bali nodded, "If you're not hungry, there's a rec room upstairs that you're welcome to. It's pretty much a free-for-all so long as no one gets hurt."

"Does that happen often?"

"In a house full of mutant teens?" the man asked with a disbelieving laugh. "You'd be surprised."

With that, Bali walked out to join the rest of the household, leaving Steve standing in the middle of the kitchen. He wondered, not for the first and certainly not the last time, if S.H.I.E.L.D. had made a mistake. But, then again, they should probably know about these new-found mutants. Even if only to avoid being blind-sided should something ever happen.


	5. Chapter Four

**_Sorry for the long wait, I moved and we didn't have internet for the past month. Or cable, for that matter. Good news is: I've worked pretty far on my personal writing project. Bad news: I think this is the only chapter of anything that I actually finished. Finally watched _****The Winter Soldier ****_so I have a few new twists for this story. Sorry again for how late it is. I hope you all enjoy!_**

* * *

><p><em>"<em>_Just because her eyes don't tear, doesn't mean her heart doesn't cry. Just because she comes off strong, doesn't mean there's nothing wrong."_

_-Anonymous_

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><p>Since being pulled out of the ice not two years before, Steve had found he had become something of an insomniac. Though he had gone to sleep not long after the rest of the house's occupants finished dinner, he had woken not long after to find that the sun had yet to rise. So, having nothing to do within the confines of his bedroom, he decided to silently wander the house and see whatever he happened to stumble upon.<p>

The rest of the house seemed to be in a similar condition as the first floor. Signs of half-finished renovations stood out starkly against the rustic look of the seemingly ancient house. Then there was the inexplicable – the random burn mark or indention in the wall that offered no feasible reason for being there. But there were also signs of the teenagers that made up the majority of the house's population: a crumpled magazine, a few unmatched socks, and the occasional stray board game piece.

But the house was silent in the early hours of the dawn and Steve wondered if this would be one of the few moments of peace he would have in the coming days. He wondered idly what Natasha and Clint were up to at that moment. No doubt the archer was still sleeping soundly, refusing to get up until at least an hour after the sun rose. But the ex-soldier's reverie broke with the familiar sound of a punching bag.

He followed the noise, gently pushing an ajar door open to reveal a large room divided in two by a partial wall. On the one side was a TV with a few shelves of DVDs and a large couch that looked as though it had seen better days. The other side was sparsely lined with very worn exercise equipment including a treadmill, an elliptical machine, a stationary bike, and a few punching bags.

Nikki, who had her dark hair pulled up in a ponytail, was swinging at one of the punching bags. She wore a slightly faded shirt that he couldn't read and what looked like sweatpants. Though she wasn't too far off proper form, her blows reminded him more of the men he would pick fight with back in the 1940's. Steve silently shut the door behind him, making sure not to disturb her. Still, she glanced at him out the corner of her eyes and offered him a half-smile.

"You're up early," she remarked before noticing his stunned expression. "I heard you come in."

Steve raised his eyebrows, "You must have pretty good hearing."

"With a house full of rowdy teenagers, you have to," she said with a fond smile. "They keep you on your toes."

He nodded, "I can only imagine. And with the…powers they have, it must be even more difficult."

She gave a sharp laugh and what sounded vaguely like, "you have no idea," before returning to her task. Steve watched her deliver blow after blow to the punching bag. She hit like a street fighter, he realized. No military training, then. It was obvious that she had learned everything she knew on her own.

"You know, you'd have a lower chance of hurting yourself if you'd hit with your knuckles instead of the flat of your fingers," he noted.

Nikki looked at him strangely before continuing, "Thanks."

"Use your hips. It'll maximize the power behind your blows," he continued, stepping behind her and putting his hands on her hips to show her exactly how to move. "You should roll your hips into the punch – like this."

She looked over her shoulder at him, a look of bewilderment on her face. His chest was flush against her back, Steve realized for the first time, and their faces only a hair's breadth away. Her eyes darted away and back to meet his gaze – but she looked more like a deer in headlights than angered by his actions. Steve felt heat rise into his face as he flushed. It hadn't occurred to him that she wasn't one of the soldiers back on the front and their current position was a bit too intimate to be comfortable. He dropped his hands quickly, taking a step back with a muttered apology.

Nikki watched him carefully, faint recognition lighting up her grey eyes, "Where are you from, Steve?"

"I was born and raised in Brooklyn."

"Here?"

Steve frowned, "What do you mean 'here'?"

She shook her head, looking almost downtrodden, "Nevermind. Look, I leave for work in twenty minutes or so and I'll be gone most of the day. Bali and Hannah will be leaving in an hour, so that leaves you and Remy to hold down the fort. We usually have two adults watching everything, but Bali trusts you. So a few words of advice: keep a close eye on Pietro – he's a bit of a kleptomaniac, Wanda's pretty shy so don't take it personally if she doesn't talk to you, Kevin's a shapeshifter and will impersonate you given the chance, don't stare at Kurt, make sure Hisako doesn't use her armor if they get into a fight, talk to Tandy if anyone gets hurt, make sure to look carefully for Leigh wherever you go – oh, and don't play poker with Remy. He'll swindle you out of your money in a heartbeat."

"Look for Leigh?" he echoed, mentally making a list of all she'd said.

"He tends to camouflage into his surroundings when he's calm and he doesn't take too kindly to being run over or sat on."

"Right…"

She smiled once more, "I know it's a lot to get your head around, but you'll get used to it. I was the same when I first found other mutants. Of course, I was seventeen at the time."

"What age do most mutants get their powers?"

Nikki shrugged, "Anywhere from age twelve to twenty. I developed mine when I was fourteen."

"What are they?"

The elusive smile on her face dropped completely and Nikki gave the punching bag one last hit. With a sigh, she began unwrapping the tape, cotton strips, and gauze from her hands.

"You're awfully curious," she said with a laugh, though there was no amusement in the gesture. "This almost feels like an interrogation."

"Sorry," Steve said. "I'm just curious."

Before she could anything else, a young girl with auburn hair and doe brown eyes peeked in. Nikki's expression softened visibly at the sight of the girl.

"Nikki?"

"Hey, Sammy," she answered. "What're you doing up, kiddo?"

"It's eight o'clock."

Nikki glanced up at the clock on the wall and muttered something under her breath. She tossed the gauze and cotton onto one of the benches and walked after the young girl. Just before she walked through the door, she threw Steve one last glance.

"Breakfast time, Steve," she announced. "It's first come, first serve, so you're going to want to come now."

Steve followed the girls out of the rec room and down the stairs, noticing how a few more teens shuffled out of their rooms to join them. One boy about seventeen years old walked straight through the door as if it wasn't there to begin with. But they all seemed half-asleep as they trekked down the stairs.

Cheerful Caribbean music drifted out from the kitchen, joined by a tenor voice enthusiastically singing along. As he turned the corner, Steve saw it was Bali standing before the stove, flipping pancakes and watching several omelets as he sang. Hannah was a few feet away from him, piling a plate high in sausage links and patties.

"…We say what we need. And we love everybody, and we do as we please," he crooned, waving a greeting to Steve with his spatula.

"Bali's the best cook we have in the house," Nikki explained. "Help me get out the plates, won't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Steve answered, taking a handful of plates down from the cabinet she had opened.

As he walked into the dining room, there was a dejected exclamation from the kitchen as the song changed to a slightly slower tone. A streak of silver and green past him at a disconcerting speed and Steve nearly broke the plates as he jumped out of the way. Pietro stood on top of the wooden table, holding an old CD player in his hands.

"Come on, Bali," the boy said. "We listen to that same song every morning. Let's listen to something new. Kevin, help me out here."

An African American boy at least three years older than Pietro clambered onto the table with him, "What song?"

"_Luv Me, Luv Me_?" a boy with sandy blonde hair suggested.

Pietro hit the fast-forward button once more and Kevin cleared his throat dramatically. When he spoke again, his voice had changed to a smooth baritone.

"This is for all the girls out here. You know I love you all," he said with a crooked grin before starting to sing. "Who the man allowed to make you moist and-?"

"Kevin Sydney!" Nikki yelled, rushing out of the kitchen as she cut the boy off. "What did I say about playing that song?"

"Mr. Lover, Mr. Lover," the sandy-haired boy moaned, matching the woman echoing his words on the CD.

Nikki cuffed him across the back of the head, "You're not helping, Leigh."

Leigh smiled sheepishly, looking quite like a kid in a candy store. But Nikki ignored his expression as she reached for the CD player and turned it off. Kevin groaned in defeat, his voice back to its normal pitch.

"And get off my table," she said, sounding more and more motherly with every word.

"We were just having a little fun," Pietro told her as the two hopped down from the table.

"The last time you used that exact phrase, I came home to find you'd stolen a vintage Pac Man console," she pointed out.

"It was fun!" he protested.

"Stealing is _illegal_," she said emphatically.

Steve couldn't help but smile as Nikki and the three boys argued over the morality of stealing something no one wanted. A few of the other teens pitched in, throwing in their two cents for either side of the discussion. He remembered his own mother, who had practically raised both himself and Bucky whenever he was over, who had juggled so much before her death. As a girl with dark, frizzy hair began arguing with Pietro, Nikki shook her head with a smile and walked back into the kitchen.

Allowing himself to laugh softly, Steve finished passing out the plates. He quickly picked up several of the names and the faces that went with them.

The dark-haired girl who had derailed the discussion on Pietro's morals was his sister, Wanda. The two were twins, though Steve could barely see the resemblance. Kevin, of course, had been singing on the table. Kurt was the boy who looked like a creature from a Dr. Seuss book, but Steve refused to stare at the kid. The girl with coppery skin and an old vintage tee was Danielle. Hisako was sitting next to Danielle, discussing what sounded like high-level physics. Tandy, a rather peppy blonde, sat next to Tyrone, who sat pensively silent while nodding from time to time. The boy sitting across from Kurt and holding a discussion in fluent German was Douglas. Leigh, who Steve noticed had a distinctive accent, laughed with Kevin as they watched Wanda scold her brother. Ariana, who seemed to be the odd one out, watched as silently as Tyrone while Samantha began a tense debate on the worst school subject at their high school.

A little overwhelmed, Steve backed into the kitchen once more. A man with sleep-mussed, dark brown hair had joined Nikki, Bali, and Hannah. The stranger laughed as Nikki smacked Bali's hand with a spatula when he tried to steal some bacon. The second Steve walked in, the man's attention snapped to him.

"You must be our new guest," he said, extending a hand as he walked forward. "The name's Remy LeBeau."

"Steve Callaghan," he answered, shaking the man's hand. "You must be the Remy Nikki warned me about."

Remy looked affronted before turning to Nikki, "You warned him against me? How rude!"

Nikki rolled her eyes, but there was a smile on her face, "If I didn't, you would have won all his money by lunch. And don't think I don't know you stole a biscuit."

Remy sighed in defeat, pulling a biscuit out of his jacket pocket and placing it in Nikki's hand. He turned back to Steve, putting a hand to his mouth as if to keep her from reading his lips.

"Don't ever think you can hide anything from Nikki," he whispered conspiratorially. "She's got eyes like a hawk and ears like a bat."

"Actually, that's me," Bali put in cheerfully. "I just report to the boss-lady."

Nikki smirked, almost in triumph, and handed the dark-haired man a glass plate of pancakes, "And right now, I need you to help get this out on the table before the rugrats become ravenous and storm the kitchen."

Bali saluted as he took the plate, "Yes, ma'am. Right away, ma'am."

He walked out stiffly, doing a rather ludicrous impression of a soldier's march. Remy followed soon after, plates of waffles, biscuits, toast, and eggs balancing precariously on his arms. Nikki was the last to exit with a myriad of jellies and syrup, leaving Hannah and Steve alone in the kitchen.

"Quite the family you have here," he noted, watching as she mixed gravy in the pan before her.

Hannah smiled happily, "Yes. We may be a bit out of sorts at times, but we're all pretty close despite the differences."

"Nikki seems to run a tight ship."

"Don't let her fool you," she said with a laugh. "Nikki plays tough, but she's a softie with the kids. And don't take it personally if she seems distant towards you. She doesn't trust easily – not after Erik."

"Erik?"

A look of horror crossed Hannah's face and she looked in panic towards Steve, "Don't tell her I said that. In fact, please don't mention Erik at all."

"Is something wrong?"

Hannah put down her whisk, "Everybody regrets something. Nikki regrets more than most. It really weighs her down sometimes – but it's her cross to bear. I have no right to give you all the skeletons in her closet. And if you go poking around for answers, she'll close up tighter than a clam. If you want to fit in at all in this place, don't bother her about what's in the past. She'll tell you if she wants."

"Alright," Steve conceded. "I won't say anything."

Hannah looked visibly relieved at his statement, "Thank you."

There was a short silence between them as they both wracked their brains for something to say. Steve knew he had questions to answer when he reconvened with Natasha and Clint in four days, but didn't want to seem too forward in his line of questioning. Luckily, Hannah was just as eager to ease the tension.

"So, did Nikki give you the whole list of warnings with Remy's?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I bet that was intimidating," she laughed. "But don't worry. Remy's pretty good with the kids, though he may rile them up from time to time. And they're all easy to love."

"It seems like it," Steve noted, glancing back out the doorframe to see Bali handing out pancakes and waffles as the teens clamored around him for their own breakfasts. "Has it always been like this?"

"Not in the beginning," she admitted. "A lot of us were messed up when we found each other. Most of those guys had been bouncing from city to city just looking for someone to look out for them. It was hard to get used to being under one roof after something like that."

Steve nodded in understanding, watching the group in the dining room. There was something so simplistic and nostalgic about the way they acted like a family. It reminded of him when he went to Bucky's for Thanksgiving one year. There had been so many different people crowded around one table, but they had all gotten along swimmingly. It gave him a brief sense of homesickness. There were some things that Steve liked about this new age, but not everything of the past could be buried.

But the faint smell of burning dragged Steve out of his reverie. Both turned quickly to look for the source of the smell. Hannah gave a cry of disbelief as she scrambled for the gravy pan at the same time Steve reached for the handle. The two fumbled with the pan before it dropped to the floor with several resounding clangs. Steve ran for the paper towels as gravy splattered across the legs of his jeans.

"I'm really sorry," he said hastily, kneeling to clean up the mess. "I wasn't thin-"

Steve stopped short as he realized Hannah hadn't moved since the pan dropped. She stood ramrod straight and stiff as a board. When his gaze reached her face, he noticed the petrifying fear in her expression. But it was her eyes that scared Steve the most. They were hollow and distant, as if she couldn't see what was around her.

"Hannah?" he asked, tentatively reaching for her. "Are you alright?"

The moment he touched her, Hannah flew into a frenzy. She pulled away frantically, knocking into the cabinets behind her. A terrified whimper escaped her as she cowered away from Steve. And though she looked at him with those doe brown eyes, it was as if she wasn't seeing her.

"Hannah?"

Every time he tried to reach for her, she pulled further away from him. Just when he made to stand up and get help, she lashed out like an animal backed into a corner. Her nails scratched his skin as she screamed incoherently at him. It took Steve a few seconds to realize she was saying something – three words, over and over like a mantra.

"Don't hurt me, don't hurt me, don't hurt me."

Someone pulled Steve away from her forcefully, rushing towards Hannah without thought. Nikki pushed past her sister's attacks, causing the younger woman to scream all the louder, and try to speak to her.

"Hannah, look at me. Look at me," she demanded. "No one's going to hurt you. You're here with me. Hannah!"

Hannah shook her head frantically, tears streaking down her face as she tried to push both away. Steve stood aside, feeling useless and unsure as he watched the two. Nikki looked up at him, a helpless expression in her eyes.

"Get Bali," she ordered.

Steve shuffled a step back, unsure what to do.

"Steve!" she yelled, voice stronger this time. "Get Bali. Now."

Something in her tone jolted Steve into action as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head. With a curt nod, he turned and ran out of the kitchen. He wasn't sure what exactly was happening, but he wasn't going to waste time by asking just yet. Only one thing was certain, and that was that he needed to find Bali before things got worse. Hopefully the happy-go-lucky man would be able to help in some way.


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

_"__Hell is empty and all the devils are here." _

_-William Shakespeare_

The table had fallen silent, all of their eyes turned towards the kitchen. It wasn't a shocked silence, though, but the quiet of people who had experienced similar situations many times over and yet it still scared them. They all seemed to be plastered to their seats, each teen petrified at the noises coming from the kitchen. It almost sounded like Hannah was being murdered.

Heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs and Bali stopped at their base to meet Steve's gaze, the man's silver eyes wide in horror. He pushed past Steve with enough force to send the soldier stumbling into the wall. Steve managed to right himself a second later, though there was now a hand-shaped hole in the drywall, and followed Bali back to the kitchen.

Hannah was still on the floor, pressed against the cabinets as if trying to make herself smaller. But she was no longer screaming. Her eyes were screwed shut and her arms were wrapped around her legs. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she muttered under her breath. Nikki kneeled before her, her hand outstretched towards her sister but not quite touching as if afraid to do so. The sight brought Steve to a stop in the doorway and his heart seemed to be caught in his throat.

Nikki looked up at Bali, helplessness clear in her eyes, "I can't get her out of it."

Bali kneeled down in front of Hannah and Nikki backed away. Steve continued to watch on the sidelines as she pressed her lips into a hard line and clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white. Her whole stance was rigid and afraid. Bali, on the other hand, remained relatively calm as he reached out tentatively for the younger sister.

"Hannah," he crooned. "Can you hear me, sweetheart?"

She barely moved in response. Her head shook as if trying to shake away whatever she was seeing. But Bali took one of her hands and gripped it tightly.

"I know where you think you are," he whispered. "But you're safe here. It's May twelfth, two thousand fourteen and you're safe with me, Nanna."

When Hannah nodded her head slowly, refusing to open her eyes, Steve noticed Nikki's hands seemed to shake ever so slightly. She looked so worried as she watched over the two. And when Bali made a wrong move and Hannah gave a startled shriek, the room seemed to stir as if the air itself was condensing. Steve jumped as a hand towel by the sink burst suddenly into flames. It was that phenomena which seemed to propel Nikki into action at last. She rushed to put out the flames, her hands still shaking.

Bali's attention snapped towards her, his stormy silver eyes stern, "Nikki, out."

She refused to acknowledge his gaze, her hands gripping the countertop as if she might fall if she let go. Her shoulders tensed like she was in pain. Bali, giving up on her, turned to look at Steve.

"Get her out of here."

The words were hard and commanding, but they were far from harsh. He returned his attention to Hannah the second Steve nodded his understanding. The super soldier walked briskly over to Nikki, putting a hand on her shoulder gently. But the touch seemed to snap her back into the present and she turned sharply on the balls of her feet before all but running from the room. As Steve made to follow her, he could still hear Bali trying to talk Hannah down from her hysteria.

"I need you to do something for me, Nanna," he said, tone much kinder. "I need you to look around and tell me what you see. Can you do that for me?"

The kids were still at the table as Steve walked out to follow Nikki, many of them shifting uncomfortably in their seats. She went almost entirely unhindered as she hurried out the room. Tandy reached out to her with an earnest expression, her hand falling just short of her surrogate mother's arm.

"Nikki?"

But the brunette ignored her, stomping up the stairs as if something was chasing after her. Steve followed tentatively, unsure if it was really such a good idea to follow her now. He had succeeded in getting her out of the kitchen. That was all Bali had asked of him. And yet a part of him argued that she looked upset, that he should try to help. So he found himself following her to a room upstairs on the far end of the house.

The door was left ajar in her haste to escape, but that didn't mean Steve would barge in entirely. Instead, he hovered in the doorframe as she paced blindly in the sparse bedroom. She turned without warning and gave an angered cry as she struck the wall hard enough to dent the drywall. It was as if all the strength had suddenly left her. She collapsed onto the bed in the next second, running her hands through her hair as she hung her head.

How was it possible that she could have been aloof and poised not an hour ago when he found her in the rec room? It was her armor, he realized. Here before him was a woman who was vulnerable and wanted to come off strong. A member of her makeshift family was hurt, though, and that armor revealed her through the cracks. She looked dejected and hurt, her eyes staring determinedly at the floor.

Unable to wait in silence any longer, Steve knocked on the door softly. There was a look of shame in her expression when she met his gaze. She had never meant for anyone to see her like that. That much was clear in her eyes.

"Are you alright?"

She gave a noncommittal shrug, "I'm fine."

"No one is ever 'fine'," he answered, remembering when Pepper had taught him that. "May I come in?"

"I suppose."

She didn't look at him as he approached. Nor did she so much as move when he sat down a foot beside her. She simply stared down at her feet as she wrung her wrists. Steve tried to think of something he could say,

"Have you ever felt like you have all the strength in the world, and yet you're still not strong enough to help those that matter?"

Her words rang through him like ripples in a pond. His mind was forced back to 1944, to Bucky as he plummeted to the ravine. He knew that feeling all too well. But, before he could say anything in reply, she gave a shaky laugh of disbelief.

"Why am I even telling you this?" she asked, though the words sounded like they were directed more towards herself than him. "I've only known you for – what? – a couple hours? And here I am, telling you things I shouldn't."

She ran a hand through her dark hair, a weary expression of disbelief on her face, "I guess it's because I can't really tell the others. What's that saying? 'It's easier to confide in a stranger because they cannot judge us on what we've done'? And there I go again. I really should stop…"

"Yes."

Nikki's eyes flew up to his, shock clear in her expression as she misunderstood his meaning. But Steve wouldn't lie to her. She had seemed so distant and cold upon first meeting him. But she was just trying to protect both herself and her family, he realized. Her mask broke under pressure and stress that he immediately recognized as something that had built up over the years. And, for some reason he could not explain, he felt like she shouldn't feel as lonely as she looked.

"I've felt that way before," he explained, blue eyes meeting brown. "More often recently."

"Who was it? If you don't mind my asking."

He made to object, but she gave him a wan smile.

"Don't deny it," she muttered. "I know that look."

"Their names were Timothy Dugan, Gabe Jones, Jim Morita, James Falsworth, Jacques Dernier, Gilmore Hodge, Peggy Carter, and Bucky Barnes."

It took more of his strength than he had thought to keep his voice steady as he thought of the people he had lost. There was a horrified shock in her eyes as she listened to him list the Howling Commandos he had fought alongside so long ago. He didn't look away from her gaze as he spoke.

"I lost my parents, too, but that was a very long time ago."

Her voice was so small when she spoke again, "What happened?"

"Time," he answered with a shrug. "You've lost someone, too, haven't you?"

She stood up, walking to the desk to pull a manila folder out of the top drawer. Tossing it on the bed next to him, she leaned against the desk to watch him.

"Too many," she replied. "I suppose that's why I worry so much for Hannah and the kids. I'm afraid that, one day, something will put them in danger and I won't be enough to protect them."

Was this really the family S.H.I.E.L.D. thought was allied to HYDRA? The very notion seemed ridiculous now. They were a ragtag bunch of teenagers and almost a handful of adults. But they were also a group of people with strange powers and no obvious source. As if that wasn't enough, Coulson had obviously thought it important enough to warrant a search.

But watching Nikki sheepishly meet his gaze as if ashamed of what she was telling him, bearing her weaknesses for him to see and understand, made him think twice. It made Steve wonder what had happened to her that she was worried about losing the little family she had seemingly created. But he was afraid that if he pushed too hard for answers, that she would close up and become cold once more. Clint, Natasha, and Fury were counting on the answers he could provide. They needed him to determine whether or not the remains of HYDRA had ties to anyone in the house and how much of a threat they were. So he chose a much safer line of questioning.

"What was that? What Hannah was going through?"

"Hannah has post-traumatic stress disorder. Sometimes, she suffers from flashbacks and disassociation. Bali should tell you about her triggers when she calms down," Nikki explained. "A lot of us have scars, Steve. Many of them simply can't be seen."

"What about yours?" he asked. "Are your scars visible?"

Nikki gave him an amused smile, though she looked too weary for it to be effective, "Some of them. But the scars don't concern me as much as the demons."

"The demons?"

Her eyes turned towards the clock on the wall and she cursed under her breath, "I'm going to be late for work. Remy's going to have to work today, as Bali's not going to leave Hannah's side now. That actually may be luckier for you. Remy's liable to trick you a few times."

She pulled a vest from her open closet and slipped it on as she spoke. With the vest on over the button-down blouse and dress slacks, she looked as if she might work as a receptionist or secretary. Steve wondered how much she actually made. From the state of the house and some of the kids' clothes, it was obvious that none of the adults within made enough to live comfortably.

"Do me a favor and put those up when you're done," she said, gesturing towards the manila folder beside him.

He watched as she stopped right at the door, throwing him one last glance over her shoulder, "Oh, and Steve, I know you're new here, but try not to let the house burn down while I'm gone. It may not look like much of anything, but all we have. And it's home."

She walked out without waiting for his reply. And though he felt as if she had left him with more questions than answers, Steve couldn't help but smile at her words. It certainly felt like home despite the place being a little on the dilapidated side.

His eyes suddenly turned to the folder she had tossed him. It looked rather like one of the many hard copies of files S.H.I.E.L.D. had in their databases, without the typed title, of course. But, when he opened it, he found papers filled with sketches inside. They ranged from pen and ink to colored pencil in medium. Between each sketch was a piece of thin tracing paper to keep them from smudging. The only thing which linked them all was that the subjects were all people.

The first one was of a family of four: two young girls standing proudly before their parents. Each and every one had dark hair and eyes, their clothing distinctly western European. The style was off, though, at least compared to what he had studied since waking up from the ice. It reminded him of what he had seen when he was still a soldier. The word _Eisenhardt _was scrawled in the bottom corner. If he was being fully truthful with himself, Steve could have sworn the eldest girl looked a bit like a younger Nikki.

The next was of a young boy with fair hair and sad eyes. He looked no older than ten, but his shoulders were hunched as if he had carried a heavy burden for too long.

Another was off a man who could have been the same boy on the prior page. But he stood tall and proud in this one. His face was graced by hard lines and strong definition and hair cropped short. Only his eyes were colored in a green-tinged grey. The detail put into the man was much more pronounced than the family.

The fourth was a colored sketch of a young man with a fairly messy crop of mousy brown hair that brushed against his shoulders. He was practically polar opposites of the first man. Where the blonde had been all sharp angles and bold lines, this man had much softer, more delicate features. Parts of the strange white chair he seemed to be sitting in were visible behind him. His right hand was lifted towards his face, his forefinger and middle finger pressing into his temple. The man's blue eyes were narrowed in concentration.

Steve flipped back and forth between the two men. He could tell a lot from an artist's work, and the way Nikki had portrayed these two was surprising. The family sketch was out of focus and heavily shadowed as if she couldn't quite remember what they all looked like. But there were incredible, almost loving, details on the men. The amount of time and focus she had obviously put into them marked how much they had meant to her.

As he shifted the papers to look at the next sketch, something much smaller fell from between the pages. Steve's eyebrows rose as he peered over the edge of the manila file to see what it was that he dropped. It was an old photograph. Not the stiff-edged, digital picture of this new age he had woken up in, but a black and white 1940's photograph with faded edges. He hadn't seen one in what felt like forever. Most he came across were either preserved on the internet, worn, or faded past hope.

Picking up the photograph, he was pleasantly surprised to find it in pristine condition. Had Nikki kept this picture so carefully? Turning it over, Steve nearly froze in shock at the subjects.

The fair-haired man was there, but there was a broad smile on his face as he looked towards the camera. There was a little girl maybe eight years old was in his arms, a gap-toothed smile brightening her expression as she waved happily at whoever had been holding the camera at the time. But what caused Steve to pause was the woman beside the man, who was drawn towards him by a hand at her waist. In an embroidered shirt and patchwork skirt that Steve had seen occasionally back in his day, looking perhaps ten years younger, was Nikki.


	7. Chapter Six

_It's astonishing how much trouble one can get oneself into, if one works at it."_

_-Neil Gaiman_

* * *

><p>There was something comfortably familiar about the House. Even being full of teenage mutants that seemed to enjoy making mischief on relatively small scales, Steve somehow found he felt at home. There was always a sense of camaraderie when the kids weren't at school. Bali, Hannah, and Remy alternated between watching the House. Nikki, he learned, was almost always working.<p>

He was at the house with Remy the day he really began to feel a part of whatever it was the mutant had. They were peeling off old wallpaper so that they could paint, though that was after Steve had been taught how to play Texas Hold 'Em and lost. Remy, it seemed, had lots of stories on how he had played several people and won anything and everything from a Ferrari to his own personal island.

"But the one you really don't want to play is Nikki," he laughed.

Steve looked up from the pile of wallpaper at his feet, "Really?"

"Girl's got a poker face from Hell," the Louisiana native said with an amused shake of his head. "She can bluff her way through anything. I don't know how or why – and, between you and me, I'm not sure I want to know."

"How long have you known Nikki?"

There was a thoughtful pause before Steve got his answer, "Six years, I think. It seems like decades sometimes. I tried to steal from her, so I guess you could say I owe her. She got me out of a lot of trouble back in the day."

"What happened?"

"Well, I bagged this sweet car – a gorgeous little number in scarlet – from these guys who were bench racing in some old diner," he said with a smirk. "Of course they were mad as hornets when they saw me. Chased me all the way down the street until suddenly it was like somebody had taken control in my head. Next thing I knew, the two guys were at the side of the car, along with some professor in a wheelchair. I thought I was dead for sure. Then Nikki comes running after them, telling 'em off for leaving her in the diner. She starts talking to them, cools them down, and talks me into coming with them. Apparently, they were running a school for young mutants. She and Xavier taught me how to control my powers."

"Xavier?"

"Professor Charles Xavier," Remy clarified. "He and Nikki were pretty close. Never could tell what it was exactly, but there was some kind of deep understanding between them."

There was a sort of faraway look in the man's eyes as he said that, Steve noticed. In a second, it was gone and he returned to stripped wallpaper from the walls.

"So, why did she leave?"

Remy stopped midway in what he was doing. He sighed in resignation, as if it was a topic he didn't want to discuss, and dropped his hands.

"It was a mix of something bad happening and her past starting to catch up with her. A long time ago, Nikki started running from a pretty big mistake she made. She hasn't stopped since. She blamed herself for something that wasn't her fault and, between you and me, I don't think she's ever forgiven herself."

Steve thought over Remy's words as he gathered some of the torn wallpaper to throw it away. He had gotten the feeling that Nikki felt obligated to protect the people in her house, but he had never quite figured out why. By the way Remy told it, it seemed as though she was doing so to make up for something. The thought made the ex-soldier frown. What could have been so terrible that Nikki would run so far?

Deciding he would ask about the specifics after he threw away the scraps in his arms, Steve headed for the large trash can in the kitchen. It was far too large for the relatively cramped room, but he understood why it was. The size was necessary with so many teenagers in the house. He had found that, when the trash can was not used, an abundance of snack wrappers and ruined clothing would litter the floors. It was only due to one of Nikki's rules from the infamous List that the House was kept fairly clean.

The List was a compilation of rules that Nikki had set up when they first bought the House. They were written in sharpie on a little piece of paper stuck to the front of the fridge. There was also a copy in the rec room and living room. Aside from the original nine rules, there were also footnotes and additions scribbled into the margins. A few sentences were underlined. Steve had smiled at the sight of it, particularly the one stating that getting the approval of Bali or Remy on any subject was not valid approval. It had occurred to them that while Nikki and Hannah tended to dote on the teenagers from time to time, Bali and Remy were complete pushovers when it came to the kids.

Steve was thinking about the rules, wishing one of them was that the trash needed to be taken out daily, when there was a loud pop. Blue smoke curled in the air for a second before dissipating to reveal Kurt Wagner. Of course, his usual indigo skin was hidden beneath impressively layered makeup and his three-fingered hands were covered in gloves the same color as his makeup. He even wore colored contacts to hide his yellow irises.

From what Bali had told him, Hannah was the one to teach Kurt how to use cosmetics to make himself look normal. Hannah's gift was intuitive adaption – the ability to understand how to do or mimic something simply by watching it being done once. After watching several episodes of something called "Face Off" and numerous makeup tutorials on a video website called "Youtube," she had spent days experimenting with techniques and showing Kurt how to do each one. Steve had watched her in astonishment one day as Hisako had shown the woman several kung fu movies and asked Hannah to repeat some of the forms – which the brunette had done flawlessly.

Steve stopped abruptly at the appearance, some of the wallpaper strips falling from his hands. Remy didn't seem to have noticed from where he worked in the other room.

"Kurt," the ex-soldier said. "Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

The German boy wrung his wrists, being careful to only touch the gloves and not the makeup, "I am. But there's an emergency."

Steve raised his eyebrows, "What happened? Should we call-?"

"No!" the boy hissed, throwing up his arms as if to stop Steve. "Nikki can't know. She'll kill us if she finds out. Can't it be between us?"

He thought about that for a second. What he needed to do most was gain Nikki's trust, which he was slowly accomplishing. If she found out he was hiding something, particularly if it affected the teenagers who she often referring to as her kids, he would lose all progress he had made. At the same time, he knew he had to win over the kids to. He came to the conclusion that it could remain a secret so long as it wasn't dangerous towards anyone.

"Alright. Tell me what's wrong."

Without answering, Kurt grabbed a hold of Steve's sleeve. The world seemed to spin in a dizzying array of colors and shapes for a few minutes. Steve felt as though he was being stretched out like taffy. When the world finally seemed to right itself, they were no longer in the kitchen. It took a minute for Steve to gather himself enough to look around.

They were in an alley between the exterior walls of two stores. A busy parking lot was visible just past them. The spot where the alley opened up was bathed in flashing lights of red and blue, police car lights. Steve looked to Kurt with a questioning expression. The boy looked up with wide eyes, as if begging silently for Steve not to judge what he was about to be told.

"Pietro got himself into a bit of trouble," he said. "Come on."

Steve allowed the boy to drag him out of the alley and into the store to their right. On one of the benches near the front doors, Pietro sat in handcuffs. The silver-haired kid was looking pointedly at his beat up sneakers, shifting every now and then as if he couldn't wait to get away. Two police officers stood before him. The elder of the two officers had an expression on his face of a man who had seen a movie so many times that the action had grown dull. As Steve and Kurt approached, all three looked up.

The elder officer frowned at Steve, "Can I help you, sir?"

"My name's Steve Callaghan," he answered. "I was wondering if you could tell me what happened here."

"Are you of any relation to Nikki Whitfield?"

Before Steve could respond, Kurt cut him off with, "He's Nikki's boyfriend."

Steve fought the urge to raise his eyebrows at the lie, nodding in agreement to the officer. The man looked just as surprised as Steve felt.

"Didn't know Nikki was the dating type," the officer muttered under his breath. "Is Nikki busy, then?"

"I told you that already, Mitchell," Pietro grumbled.

"Officer Mitchell," the man corrected before turning to Steve. "Security caught him trying to walk out of here with a DVD and a diamond necklace."

That time, Steve did raise his eyebrows, though his gaze was focused on Pietro. The boy looked up with sheepish mottled green eyes and an apologetic smile.

"I can't keep letting him go," Officer Mitchell continued. "If I catch him shoplifting again, he's going to have to go to the Juvenal Detention Center. Nikki's a friend, but I can only do so much for her."

"I understand," Steve said. "Do you think I can take him from here?"

The cop shrugged, pulling a key for the handcuffs from his pocket, "Not really much more I can do besides file a report. Just try to keep him out of trouble."

"I'll do my best, sir."

Pietro gave a friendly smile to Officer Mitchell as the two cops left. However, his smile faded when he looked up to see Steve's disapproving frown. The fifteen-year-old glanced to Kurt as if pleading for help, but he simply shook his head.

"Thanks for helping me out," Pietro said with a nervous laugh.

"Come on," Steve said, his words coming out sharper than he intended.

"Where are we going?"

The ex-soldier pointed in the general direction of the building next door, "We're going to get lunch and you two are going to answer some questions."

The boys didn't protest as they followed Steve out. In fact, there was a grim silence shared between the two of them. The walk from the store to the restaurant was short and the wait for a table only took two minutes. No one spoke until after the waitress had taken their orders. Both Kurt and Pietro looked exceedingly uncomfortable in the booth across from Steve.

"What were you doing skipping school?" Steve finally asked, looking both in the eyes.

Pietro gave a half-hearted smile, "Stealing?"

"There's a rule on the List saying that you're not supposed to be breaking laws."

"Mm-hm, rule ten," Kurt replied. "The exception is emergencies."

"And this was an emergency?"

"Yes!" Pietro snapped, looking agitated and morose at the same time.

Steve blinked in surprise as both boys looked down at the table. Kurt began to fiddle with the corner of his napkin as if he wished he could be anywhere but there. Giving a sigh, Pietro met Steve's gaze again.

"It's Nikki's birthday in four days," he explained. "You don't understand because you haven't been here that long, but I _have_ to buy her a gift. All she does is work from dawn 'til dusk. Every penny she makes goes to paying the bills and, when they don't, they go to making sure we have presents on Christmas and our birthdays. She even makes sure Sam has a gift for every day of Hanukkah.

"Don't get me wrong, Remy, Hannah, and Bali have all done stuff for us, but not like Nikki. She took us in when we had nowhere else to go. She gave us a home, a family! When we had nothing, we had Nikki. And she never stops to have time for herself. She never buys herself anything, never gives herself a break, and never stops thinking about us. She deserves something for once."

Steve was struck silent as Pietro finally finished speaking. He spoke with such a passion that it was as though it was what meant most to him at that moment. He met Steve's shocked gaze with a determined expression, one that clearly stated that he was not going to back down on his opinion for any reason.

It had already occurred to the super soldier that Nikki worked far too much to be healthy. He had often heard the door swing open late at night and shuffling around the kitchen for a good hour before she retreated to her bedroom. She constantly looked tired and at the edge of her rope. And yet, when any of the teenagers that made up the majority of her little patchwork family had something they deemed important to share with her, she seemed to come alive. It was clear that she lived for the teens she saw as her own children.

So to hear Pietro speak the way he did about Nikki only cemented what Steve already had come to realize. It also made sense of one of the many rules of the House and why the silver-haired boy before him was often dubbed a kleptomaniac. Rule three stated that none of the teens were to help out with the bills. Nikki had not only wanted them to pay attention to their studies at school, but also wanted to keep them from stealing for the good of the family. Officer Mitchell's statement of how many times he had caught Pietro doing the same served as proof that the boy only wanted to make things easier on his surrogate mother.

At the thoughts of the good intentions of Pietro, the ex-soldier began to smile. He tapped on the table to get both the boys' attentions.

"What movie were you trying to give her?" he asked, his voice much softer now.

Kurt and Pietro looked taken aback by the change in attitude. It was as if they were unused to anything besides being chastised for such actions, which Steve was sure they were. There was a moment of awed silence before the boys smiled happily.

"_The King and I_," Kurt answered cheerfully, looking much happier now that they had almost entirely gotten out of trouble.

The title was almost entirely unfamiliar to Steve, but he gave a nod as if he knew what they were talking about.

"It's a really important movie to Nikki," Pietro explained. "She used to watch it with her daughter."

Steve nearly choked on his drink at the boy's words. As far as he had been told, none of the teens in the House were actually biologically related to any of the adults. It took him a minute to regain his composure.

"Nikki has a daughter?"

"Nikki _had_ a daughter," Pietro clarified. "Something happened to her a long time ago and she died, but Nikki won't tell us what happened exactly."

It was as if Steve's heart had sunk to his feet. He remembered the day Hannah had gone through her disassociation spell, how Nikki had said she had lost many people. Losing people was something he had thought himself familiar with. He had lost his parents, his friends, his first love, and the man he considered to be his brother. None of those seemed to hold a candle to losing a child, though. There were many stories he had heard of parents losing children. Watching them mourn, seeing such a deep-cutting grief, had been painful in every sense of the word. It now made sense why Nikki worked so hard to take care of her family.

Guilt began to creep up on him. The family he was currently living with was a down-on-their-luck group of people just struggling to get by. Granted, they all had some form of super-human power that had spontaneously grown from a genetic mutation. That didn't justify the distrust S.H.I.E.L.D. seemed to harbor towards them. Maybe they were wrong, maybe HYDRA was interested in the family because of their powers. Perhaps the family was the ones who needed protecting.

Steve thought of the way Nikki, Hannah, Bali, and Remy worked so hard to keep the House in decent condition and provide the kids with what they needed. His mind then wandered to the bank account in his name that had slowly been gathering interest since the forties. A DVD and a diamond necklace wouldn't make much of a dent in his bank account.

"Well then, what do you say we buy those gifts after lunch?"

Pietro gaped at Steve, disbelief clear in his expression. Even Kurt seemed to be taken by surprise by the announcement. Slowly, the younger of the boys smiled pleasantly. It was a gesture that held none of his usual mischief, just an unfathomable happiness at being able to do something nice for the woman who sacrificed so much for him.

"Sounds like a plan to me."

* * *

><p>In the end, the three spent hours in numerous stores as they searched for several gifts for Nikki. They had all forgotten about Steve's original intention of getting them back to their school. After their shopping trip, they had gone to dinner. It was dark by the time they got back to the House. Kurt had been too tired to teleport them all back with every bag and so they had walked.<p>

The boys had stumbled up to their rooms with their arms full, most likely to stuff the gifts under their beds before going to sleep. Steve, on the other hand, stopped short at the sight he caught from the doorway of the kitchen. He had almost missed it entirely.

Within the kitchen, at the small table covered in papers, checks, and mail, sat Nikki. However, she was not awake. She was slumped uncomfortably over the edge of the table, her arm extended beneath her as if she had been resting her chin on her hand before she fell asleep. Steve stepped forward with the intention of waking her up. It couldn't have been good for her to sleep in such a way.

His eyes caught on some of the unfolded papers beneath her. They were bills for the electricity and water used in the House. Despite being surrounded by problems, she looked more peaceful than Steve had ever seen her before. Making a split second decision, Steve carefully pulled her up in his arms. She barely moved as he picked her up.

"Erik," she murmured, pressing her face against his chest.

Steve stopped short, staring down at the woman in his arms. There was a strange lilt to the name she spoke that didn't match with her usual accent. Still, she smiled softly as she leaned against him. There was something so vulnerable about the way she looked as she slept that seemed startling in contrast with her usual closed off personality.

A smile crossed his face and he continued up the stairs. Opening her bedroom door without jostling her took a bit of clever maneuvering, but he managed it. He laid her easily on the mattress that dominated her room and pulled the blanket up over her. She hardly moved as he did. Steve gave Nikki one last glance over his shoulder before walking out. Regardless of what S.H.I.E.L.D. thought, he didn't see anyone in the House as particularly dangerous. And though Nikki was reserved and curt, he was sure she was no more dangerous than the rest. He rather thought she could be very friendly if she could find it in herself to trust him.

Another pang of guilt hit him with the thought of what he was doing. They didn't really know who he was. But, then again, he didn't really know who they were. He simply wasn't aware of that fact.


	8. Chapter Seven

**_I finally have time to do things! Which means that I can finally catch up on all of the reading I have to do. I have my work cut out for me. Still, I hope you all enjoy!_**

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><p><em>"<em>_In the end there is nothing to be done but to state clearly what has been done, without shame or regret, and say: Here I am, and this is what I am. Now deal with me as you see fit. That is your right. Mine is to stand by the act, and pay the price. You do what you must do, and pay for it. So in the end all things are simple." _

_-Ellis Peters_

* * *

><p>Skye walked stood in the doorway of Coulson's office, knocking softly on the open door. He looked up from the files he was examining as the awoken from a dream. It had been a few months since Director Fury had called the entire team on the Bus to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters for the investigation of the Alchemist and the house full of 0-8-4s. The idea of more 0-8-4s in the context of people had immediately interested the hacktivist, though she refrained from saying anything.<p>

"I found something," she said as she walked in. "But it's kind of weird, AC."

Coulson gave a wan smile, "When isn't it anymore?"

Giving the holodesk a few taps, Skye managed to pull up the three dimensional digital projector that worked with the glass panel in front of the wall. She stifled a proud smile. It had taken less time to master the use of the holotable technology than it had to convince FitzSimmons to teach her. Coulson still had trouble from time to time.

"I've been looking into the identities of the so-called 'mutants' like you asked," she started, pulling up the files she had recently added. "And I found something you might be interested in."

The first files that popped up were the recently edited lists of anything S.H.I.E.L.D. could find on any of the House's inhabitants. Though all photos were only partials and taken from too far of a distance, there were facial portraits that Steve had drawn of them all in ridiculous detail. However, Skye brought her own research to the front of the piles.

"I couldn't find any information on any of the inhabitants at first, which I thought might be because none of them have proper documentation. I was wrong." – Skye pulled up several birth certificates that were older than Coulson himself – "Most of them exist, but they're much older than how Steve describes them. One Remy LeBeau, for example, is sixty-seven years old now. But, if you look at the picture of when he was in his twenties, he totally matches the Cap's drawings."

A picture of an elderly man popped up onto the display, shortly followed by pictures of when he was younger. Coulson's eyes narrowed on the pictures, his brows furrowing in thought as he leaned closer.

"The same goes for Hannah Whitfield, Kevin Sydney, Danielle Moonstar, Hisako Ichiki, Tandy Bowen, Tyrone Johnson, Douglas Ramsey, Leigh Atkins, Samantha Cooley, and Ariana Rodriguez. Now, Kurt Wagner looks a lot more human according to German records, but he still shares the same basic facial structure as the Kurt that Steve told Agents Romanoff and Barton about."

Comparisons of Steve's drawings and current photos of the inhabitants of the House lined up across the glass wall.

"The youngest of the kids inside the House were born in _sixty-three_. Not to mention that none of their older doppelgangers have any of the powers they supposedly have," Skye pointed out. "Here's the best part: Nikki Whitfield, Pietro Maximoff, and Wanda Maximoff don't exist. Technically, Bali doesn't exist, either, as the name he gave Steve belonged to a dead World War One veteran."

"What do you mean 'they don't exist'? There has to be some record…"

Skye shook her head, "The Hannah Whitfield that died at seventy-two was an only child. Bali has several photos with one-hundred percent matches on the facial recognition software, but the earliest ones date back to 1936. And, in all the photos, he looks exactly the same as the drawing if you don't pay attention to the changing hairstyles."

Several dozen photos of Bali filled the glass wall, all of them from different time periods. It was as she had explained. The handsome black-haired man looked no older or younger than he did in Steve's drawing. The only thing that was different was the style of his clothes and hair.

"Now, there is one photo with a eighty-two percent match for Nikki, there's absolutely nothing on the Maximoff twins," Skye added, looking down at the desk. "It's as if they were never born."

"What photo?"

Skye tapped the last link in her files, causing a washed out color photo to pop up on the screen. A few precise swipes caused it to grow to nearly the size of the glass wall. It was a photo from an ancient database in Russia during the Soviet era. At the sight of it, Coulson got to his feet so quickly that the chair he had been sitting in nearly toppled over. He gaped at the photograph on the display.

"AC? Coulson? Hey!"

The words he spoke next were so low, she nearly missed them.

"I know who that is."

He forced the photographs off the display with a wave of his hand. The S.H.I.E.L.D. database pulled up, dismissed easily with his ID login and password. Files from all levels filled the glass wall. Skye watched as he pushed past the recent files to the archives of Agent Peggy Carter's time. Much to her surprise, a level four file was the one he chose. She winced at the photos that popped up.

There were images of a bloody corpse mangled on the pavement. A few showed autopsy before and after views of the dead woman. Name, age, ethnicity, occupation, and date of death were all listed beside the photos. They were dated 1973.

"That's not possible," Skye muttered.

"When is anything we look into possible?"

She gaped at the agent, though he didn't tear his eyes away from the photos before them, "Yeah, but how could she possibly be alive now if she died in '73? And look younger now!"

"I don't know. But I intend to find out."

* * *

><p>Steve couldn't sleep. Again. He was sure Natasha would reprimand him for it if she ever found out, but he wanted no part of it. So he whiled away the hours doing chores around the House as quietly as possible. Mostly, he would paint the walls that had been stripped of their wallpaper. Recently, he had taken to painting vine patterns on the kitchen cabinets. Nikki had been impressed.<p>

She hadn't said anything to him about the night he had carried her up to her room. Though she had not been awake, he knew she knew it was him. He had overheard her asking Bali the next morning. It seemed, to him at least, that she was marginally friendlier towards him after that. Whenever she would say something kind or invite him to do something with the kids around the House, he would catch a glimpse of Bali or Hannah giving him an encouraging smile. The couple seemed to think it was a good thing if he and Nikki got along.

Steve couldn't help but smile at the thought of Nikki. She was rather like the Rubik's cube Tony had given him for Christmas – something that was a strange mix of irritating and intriguing at the same him. With every couple of turns, he saw a new side of her. She was patient with the kids, long-suffering with Bali and his antics, and teasing towards Steve from time to time. But what he noticed most since his shopping spree with Kurt and Pietro was just how hard Nikki worked. She couldn't cook for the life of her, he had learned, but she would spend any time she could on renovations. It was part of the reasons he helped in the late hours of the night. She worked herself to the bone, and he felt as though he should at least help out after what he was doing in her home.

So when he heard the sound of the floorboards creaking, he immediately stopped what he was doing. He picked up a kitchen knife from the block on the counter and made his way out of the kitchen. In the living room was a figure in black. The baggy clothing disguised any sign of what sex the wearer was, but it couldn't hide how lithe he or she was. Steve followed the person in black as he or she walked down the hall towards the door to the basement. It didn't much matter what the intruder was doing in the House, Steve thought, compared to the fact that they were in the House to begin with. The second he was within reach of the person, he gripped his or her arm and pulled.

A sharp gasp stopped him from further attacking the intruder as he or she fell to the floor. Hitting the ground, the intruder's hood fell back so Steve could see her face.

"_Heiliger Strohsack_!" she exclaimed softly. "What the hell are you doing up this late?"

Steve blinked in surprise, one half of his mind reeling at the fact that she was, in fact, wearing the same clothes he had seen on the Alchemist while the other half wondered at the fact that not only had she spoken flawless German, but that the first thing to come out of her mouth was 'holy sack of straw'. He wasn't sure what to make of it. So, unable to come up with anything to ask her, he simply answered in a rather dumbfounded tone.

"Fixing the pantry door."

She looked at him as though he was nuts.

"At midnight?" she hissed, her eyes slowly traveling to the knife in his hand. "You were going to stab me?"

"I thought you were a burglar or worse."

"What if I'd had a gun?" she snapped, her tone patronizing.

He shrugged, "Then I guess I would have taken my chances."

Her expression softened, changing into one of earnest surprise, "You would do that for us?"

"I'm not going to let someone hurt any of you. But what are _you_ doing up this late?"

"This is my house," she replied, dodging the question as she stood up. "I have every right if I want to walk around when I can't sleep."

"That would be a reasonable answer," he started, "if you weren't wearing combat boots and gloves."

"Maybe I'm going outside."

He raised his eyebrows at her, his expression making it clear that he didn't believe her.

"You know, trust is a two-way street. I have to be able to trust you, too."

And there it was again. That almost imperceptible softening in her expression that crossed her face every now and then when he was spoke. It was almost as if he reminded her of someone she had known and lost, as if his words took her back to times when she hadn't needed to shield herself from everything.

"If I let you come with me, can I trust you to keep this between us?"

"Yes."

Surprisingly, it wasn't a lie. He had reported most things he saw back to Clint and Natasha. It was expected of him. But right then, watching the half-veiled flicker of hope in her eyes, he thought to himself that maybe this once it would be fine not to say anything to either of the agents.

She narrowed her dark eyes at him before nodding, "Alright. Follow me."

He barely had time to nod in response before she turned her back to him. The two walked down the hall in silence, only pausing as she opened the door to the basement. Steve peered over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of stairs leading down into the cold. Nikki raised her hand before her, flames sparked to life around her fingertips like candles, and continued into the darkness.

"Is that your mutation?" he asked, unable to help himself. "Pyrokinesis?"

She stopped suddenly, her shoulders going rigid as if she was in pain, "No. This is a simple task of forcing the molecules already in motion to vibrate faster, thus producing fire."

"A simple task, alright…"

There was a smile on her face as she glanced over her shoulder at him.

"It is if you're born with the ability to manipulate energy and matter. I can bend the very fabric of reality, break all the laws of nature. It's why I almost never use my powers."

Steve thought about that, trying not to let his shock appear in his expression. So she was the Alchemist Fury was so desperately chasing. Not a mysterious woman with terrifying powers and dubious morality, he realized, but a mother looking out for the teens she considered to be her kids who happened to make the world a little safer on the side. It almost made him feel guilty about tricking her.

So deep in his thoughts, the ex-soldier very nearly ran into her as she stopped in the empty room. There was nothing around them. No decorations or furnishings of any kind, even the floors and walls were simple and unadorned. Another door sat before them.

"That can't possibly lead anywhere," he remarked.

"On the contrary," she replied. "It leads to everywhere."

"What?"

"Bali was born with a gift that none of us can ever hope to have or gain," she explained. "I don't understand the mechanics of it myself, but he made this door. All I have to do is think of where I want to go and it will take me there. It was his attempt at getting me to trust him."

Steve managed an amused smile, "You don't trust anyone immediately, do you?"

"I'm afraid not. It's the way I was raised, paired with experience, and it's a habit I can't seem to break."

"Doesn't it get lonely – never letting anyone in?"

She laughed, though it was more sardonic than amused, "My problem is not that I never let anyone in, it's that I let too many in. Now, are you going to keep asking questions or can I get a little silence to concentrate? We wouldn't want to end up in Siberia."

Steve took a step back to give her more space and watched quietly. For a minute, they stood still as stone in the darkness and quiet. When she opened the door at last, causing a strange breeze to blow out towards them, Steve caught a glimpse of the swirling purple light in the doorframe. He cocked his head slightly at the sight. It looked vaguely familiar, though he couldn't place where he might have seen anything similar before.

"Where are we going?"

"Why ask when you can see for yourself?"

Just as he opened his mouth to reply, Nikki grasped his hand tightly. A gasp escaped him as she pulled him into the vortex of light. There was the lingering feeling of standing on solid ground before, with a jarring sickness, all solidity seemed to fall away and they fell through the oblivion.


	9. Chapter Eight

_"Three may keep a secret if two of them are dead."_

_-Benjamin Franklin_

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><p>It felt like hours before Steve's feet hit solid ground once more. As the world seemed to fall back into place around them, his knees buckled and he was pitched forward. Nikki, who had turned around to speak to him when they landed, gave a startled cry as his entire weight fell into her and she, too, tumbled to the floor. He just barely kept from crushing her as his forearms caught the brunt of the fall.<p>

They lay there against the chilled asphalt for a second, both gasping for breath and staring with wide eyes at each other. Steve looked down into the surprised brown eyes that gazed up at him. There was something unreadable in her expression, something beyond the shock of being pinned beneath him. An embarrassed blush crept onto her cheeks as she glanced down his body and back up to his eyes. It was then that he realized their bodies were flush against each other.

"I'm sorry," he stammered, pushing himself off her quickly. "The trip-"

"Don't worry about it," she answered as she stood up and brushed off some dirt on her jacket. "The first time is always the worst. It was an accident."

Steve felt immensely relieved at her flippant attitude. With her up and alright, he stole a glance at their surroundings. They were in some back alley, though he couldn't tell what city. It was, however, a good deal warmer than it had been in Misty Grove.

"Where are we?" he muttered.

"Coral Gables, Florida," Nikki answered automatically, pulling a small washcloth from her pocket and stuffing it between the door and the doorframe. "There's a gas station just down the road that we're going to visit."

Steve was watching her incredulously when she met his eyes again.

"What? You have to keep the door open so it doesn't disappear and strand us here, but I can't just leave it open for anyone to stumble through."

"Okay…" – that was one question answered – "but why are we going to a gas station in Florida?"

She smiled, motioning for him to follow her, "Ever wanted to be a superhero when you were little, Steve?"

He didn't bother answering, as he hadn't so much as wanted to be a hero as not be the victim. And, given the fact that he practically a superhero already, it seemed better not to say anything at all. He simply followed her down the empty street in silence. She stopped short before him, her eyes focused on a lit store a few dozen feet away from them. There was a muffled crash coming from that direction.

"Shit. We're late."

Without much more warning, she took off in a full sprint towards the gas station, pulling the hood of her jacket over her head so that it fell over her eyes. Steve followed her, easily keeping pace with her as they ran. It was only when she leapt straight through the glass door rather than opening it that Steve had to skid to a halt. There were three men within the place, guns in their hands, and one very terrified cashier opening the register shakily.

All four men turned to look at Nikki as she finally came to a stop within the building. She put her hands out as if to stop them from rushing her.

"I'll give you one warning and one only," she announced. "You can either leave this store and get a damn job like every other person in this country, or you can wind up in prison with some nasty little side effects."

Steve closed the door behind him carefully, looking around for possible weapons and escape routes. One of the gunmen waved at them.

"You and your boyfriend should leave before someone gets hurt."

"Have it your way," she muttered, sounding disappointed in the men.

She waved her hand before them, causing a wall of fire to explode into life between herself and the gunmen. Her eyes turned to Steve's as she yelled something to him. A gunshot rang out, effectively drowning out her words when paired with the roar of the fire. Her face twisted in pain, her right hand moving to clasp her upper arm as a dark spot grew on her jacket sleeve.

"Get him out of here!" she shouted, gesturing towards the cashier who had taken cover behind the counter.

The fires died down just enough for Nikki to leap over, but not enough for the gunmen to get through. Steve could've sworn it looked like the air was holding her up as she leapt. There was an almost weightless edge to her movements before she landed once more on the ground.

Shaking his head to disperse the thoughts, he ran behind the counter and towards the cashier. The poor kid couldn't have been older than nineteen. He scrambled back as Steve approached him. The super soldier reached out, grabbing his arm and tugging him towards the door.

"Run," he snapped, pushing the kid out the door.

It seemed the cashier didn't need to be told twice. He took one last glance inside, his face blanching in fear, before turning tail and racing away as fast as he could. Without a passerby to protect, Steve turned his attention back to the fight. She looked just the same as she had when he had fought with her against the Kree in New York. There were puddles of melted, metallic liquid around their feet, the remnants of the men's guns. She exchanged blows smoothly with them, though she fought more like an animal in a corner than a soldier.

Her eyes flashed towards his and, a second later, she waved her hand at the flames. He was able to cross the diminishing flames and help. But her aid had distracted her, allowing one of the men to grab her from behind. She writhed and kicked out in his grasp and another of the gunmen grabbed her leg as she tried to kick him. Steve managed to grab the third before he could get any closer to her, his fist connecting hard with the man's jaw.

There was a short scream of pain, making Steve's eyes snap up towards Nikki and the other men. She seemed angry rather than in pain, though the way she clenched her jaw gave away much. It was as if the air in the room had grown heavier all of the sudden and Steve struggled to breathe properly. The man in his hands went purple in the face, his eyes rolling back into his head before he went limp in the soldier's grasp.

The man who had been holding Nikki's ankle let go as though he had been burned. Angry welts rose on his skin, traveling up his arm rapidly. He backed away in fright, scratching at the welts as though they would go away before he, too, collapsed to the floor. The last gunman wobbled a bit, his grip loosening on her. She managed to push away from him as he toppled over. With no one holding onto her, she slumped against one of the shelves.

A string of profanity fell from her lips, not all of it in English. She tried to pull herself back up and subsequently give a sharp cry of pain, crumpling back to the floor. His eyes widened in shock and he rushed to her side. When he knelt down and reached towards her, she swatted his hand away halfheartedly.

"Don't worry about my ankle," she snapped, pulling back the pants sleeve to inspect it. "I've got a bullet lodged in my arm that will cause severe blood loss if you don't tie a tourniquet around it."

He nodded in understanding, tearing a strip off the hem of his shirt. She offered him her left arm awkwardly and he tied the fabric tightly just above the hole in her jacket. Her features contorted into a pained grimace as he pulled it tight. With his work done, he glanced back at the men collapsed on the floor.

"Are they-?"

"Dead? No. They're just unconscious. Give them a few hours, and they'll wake up with nasty headaches," she explained. "Are you alright? I tried to contain it to just them, but…"

She trailed off, looking him up and down for anything that could have hurt him. He shook his head.

"Nothing seems wrong."

Her shoulders slumped in relief, her eyes closing as she sighed.

"I hate armed robberies," she spat out, the words sounding like she had chewed on nails to speak.

Steve drew back, looking at how her ankle was twisted at an unnatural angle. It certainly didn't look like it was comfortable. And yet, much to his surprise, Nikki reached for the top of the counter with her good hand and tried to pull herself upright once more.

He rushed to stop her, his fingers closing around her arms to keep her from moving, "Hold on, now! You do realize your ankle's broken, right?"

"I've had worse," she responded flippantly. "Besides, the police will have been notified by now and we need to get out of here before they arrive."

"You can't possibly walk."

"I only have to get to the door," she retorted.

She pushed away from the shelf only to fall forward into him. Her palms pressed flat against his chest and she glared down angrily at her ankle. Had the situation been any less serious, he might have laughed at the almost childish expression on Nikki's face. In a split second decision, Steve leaned down just enough to loop one arm behind her knees and pulled her up into his arms bridal-style. She gave a yelp of surprise at the motion. If he didn't know any better, he would have said she almost looked horrified.

"What are you doing?"

"We'll never get out of here if you try to walk on your own," he explained, stepping over the contents of the fallen shelf.

Her cheeks flushed red for the second time that night and she definitely looked embarrassed, "Couldn't you just help me walk?"

"There's no shame in needing help."

Her eyes flitted away from his for a second, but the dark night obscured most of her face, "It's not that."

Despite being curious as to what she meant, Steve chose not to say anything more on the matter. He chose, instead, to focus on getting them both back to Bali's door and to the House. The silence gave him time to think about things he would have rather pushed away at that moment. Nikki was, in fact, the Alchemist – just as Fury had speculated. And, yes, she was potentially capable of great destruction. But there was also a part of him that knew she would never hurt an innocent. The proof of that was in how she took a bullet for the cashier in the gas station.

Hazarding a glance down at her, which he felt worth the risk as she was still looking anywhere but in his eyes, he studied the strange woman in his arms. She was stiff against his chest, as though uncomfortable with being so close to him. He supposed that was due to her stubborn streak for doing everything on her own. There was something in her that was constantly fighting, constantly demanding to be in control, for some reason he could not understand. Then there was this need for justice that he had discovered in her. Steve found he could admire Nikki.

When they reached the door at last, she had relaxed enough to lean her head against his chest. He would have wagered that the change was due to exhaustion from both their escapade and her wounds. Either way, she barely moved as he pulled the cloth off the edge of the door and pulled it open. Stepping into the whirlwind of light brought Steve the same sense of being thrown head over heels through the air.

He managed to get a more solid landing than the first time, simply falling to his knees rather than falling forward entirely. Nikki grimaced in pain as the fall jarred her in his arms. Her arms, which she had kept crossed over her abdomen, clutched around his neck to keep as if afraid he might drop her when he worked to stand up.

"I'm not going to let you fall," he assured her, catching her eyes at last.

She looked away with a crooked smile, "I trust you, Steve."

The words caught him off guard and his steps faltered as climbed the stairs. It was a surprising thing for her to say, particularly after how unforthcoming she had been with him only a month and a half ago. She seemed to notice his shock and looked up at him with an awkward shrug.

"You've done a lot for us, and I appreciate it," she explained. "I should apologize for how rude I was when we first met. You had done nothing to warrant my attitude. And you've done nothing since besides help us out."

"You don't have to apologize. You were just making sure your family was safe. And I wouldn't say fixing a few leaky sinks counts as all that much."

"Maybe not, but getting Kurt and Pietro out of trouble the other day was definitely a big help."

Steve's eyes widened, but Nikki only looked amused.

"Officer Mitchell called. And Kurt is a terrible liar."

Steve laughed, "Nothing goes on in this house that you don't know about, does it?"

"Not a thing."

He chuckled softly as he set her down on the couch carefully. When he stood up to get help, she grabbed his wrist. Her expression was solemn once more when he looked down at her.

"Stay."

"I need to get Tandy," he countered. "She could heal your ankle and then we can work on digging the bullet out."

"Not Tandy," she corrected. "The kids don't know about this. Bali knows we left and came back. He'll be down in a minute."

They were silent for a few minutes, Nikki laying across the sofa while Steve sat on the floor beside her. He knew he should text Clint and Natasha to set a time to meet and inform them on what he had learned. And yet a part of him wanted to keep his word and not say anything about the events of that night.

"You should let Bali look over you," she suddenly said.

"Hmm?"

"My power is unstable at the best of times. Technicalities arise and, sometimes, innocent people get hurt. Just because you show no outward signs of anything being wrong, doesn't mean everything is alright internally."

"She's right, you know."

Both looked up as Bali walked into the living room. He wore an old faded T-shirt that looked like it had seen better days and plaid pajama pants.

"You're late," he accused, looking at Nikki. "You were being stubborn about getting back, weren't you?"

"You already know the answer to that," she pointed out. "Will you help, or not."

Steve watched as the dark-haired man who was usually so cheerful take on a professional, almost serious demeanor. The super soldier stood up and moved aside as Bali came closer. The mutant gave him a once over. He felt a pressure in his head, like the beginning of a migraine, but it was gone in an instant. Bali gave a nod.

"He seems alright. I'll keep an eye on him for a few days, just in case."

He then kneeled down beside the couch and pulled up the pant sleeve on her bad leg. Her ankle had begun to discolor as well as swell. He placed a hand on the break, forcing Nikki to give a sharp hiss, and a faint glow appeared beneath his palm. Smoke seemed to trail from his fingers, but Steve couldn't see it very well in the dark.

When he pulled his hand away, her ankle looked completely healed. She sat up on the couch, moving it around, and gestured to her arm. Steve watched from where he leaned against the wall as Bali untied the makeshift tourniquet and helped her pull off her jacket, revealing the white tank top she wore underneath. He shifted to sit beside her and began examining the bullet wound carefully. As he turned her arm carefully, offering Steve a glimpse of the crook of her elbow.

He felt as though his throat was closing up when he saw what was there. Even in the dark, he could make out a single string of numbers and one letter tattooed into her skin. The ink was clear and barely faded, as though only a dozen years old. Z10375 – it was something he had personally seen only a handful of times, but he would always recognize. It was a Nazi serial number.


	10. Chapter Nine

_**You can all thank the lovely "cherryorpeach" for this chapter arriving so quickly. Her review made my day and practically threw gasoline on a fire.**_

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><p><em>"If I got rid of my demons, I'd lose my angels."<em>

_-__Tennessee Williams_

Steve had not been given the opportunity to say anything on the matter of Nikki's tattoo that night. He had scrambled for something to say, but no words came to his mind that didn't sound too forward. Nikki and Bali had both gone upstairs to bed with tired 'good night's the second they had finished. Not wanting to wake either of them up at that late of an hour, he had trudged up the stairs to his own room and collapsed onto the mattress. Sleep evaded him entirely that night.

He lay on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. Too many thoughts ran through his head for him to even think of rest. Was the tattoo real? Surely it was a fake made to pay homage to someone close to her – a grandmother, perhaps. Nikki couldn't have been old. There was no feasible way for her to have gotten the serial number from the Nazi camps.

The soft sound of footsteps broke his reverie and he turned to glance at his closed door. He waited for the sound to go farther down the hall, listening for where the person might be going. Five steps down the hall and two steps around the corner before a door opened, it was Nikki going to the rec room.

Pushing off the blankets, Steve sat up and walked towards the door. Maybe he could put to rest his curiosities. He grabbed a white undershirt to pull on and stepped out into the empty hall. The sound of the punching bag, though the sound was carefully muffled to keep from waking anyone, could be heard where he walked.

Nikki was, in fact, inside the rec room. Her hands were wrapped and her hair pulled back in a fishtail braid. She looked up from the punching bag as he walked in, offering him a faint smile in greeting. He kept walking until he could lean against the partition wall and clearly see her face.

"You don't sleep very well, do you?"

"I could say the same about you," he pointed out. "Working late, saving people in the middle of the night, getting up early for a work out…"

"I have trouble sleeping sometimes."

He nodded in understanding, watching as she threw her punches with more force as she spoke those words. They fell quiet for a few minutes as Steve struggled with what to say next. It didn't seem to matter, either way, as there was nothing awkward about the silence between them.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

Nikki raised an eyebrow at his words, but gave a short nod, "Ask away."

"Last night, when Bali was removing the bullet from your arm, I noticed a tattoo on your arm."

Her punch landed halfway off the punching bag, causing her to stumble for a second. There was something stiff in her posture as she righted herself.

"Lots of people have tattoos," she said with a shrug.

He leveled his gaze at her, watching as she pointedly avoided his gaze, "I'd prefer it if you didn't deflect."

She looked at him incredulously, reminding Steve of what Remy had said about her poker face, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"It reads Z10375. It's not a cartoon character or some cheesy quote," he pointed out. "It's a brand."

Something dark flashed in her eyes, "No one knows that better than I do."

"How did you get a Nazi serial number on your arm, Nikki?"

She gave a resigned sigh, moving to lean against the wall beside him, "The same way everyone with a similar tattoo gets it: at a concentration camp. The Nazis tagged and slaughtered my people like animals, myself included. It's not something I like to remember."

He had known, deep down, that it was the most obvious answer. It still came as a bit of a surprise. There was a bitterness in her tone as though the words tasted foul on her tongue. And yet there was something about the tattoo that was nagging Steve. He had seen a few before, some that were just a string of numbers and a few with triangles beneath, but he had never seen one that started with a letter.

"You're not Jewish…"

The laugh she gave him in response was harsh and unamused, "The Jews weren't the only ones to be taken away. They called us '_Zigeuner_'. A word that might as well mean 'pig'."

"You're a gypsy," he muttered, watching as she almost flinched at the word. "How old are you?"

"Thirty-nine, today," she answered.

"But there's no-"

"I was born in 1938."

Her words caused his jaw to snap shut. She was twenty years younger than him. He reeled at the information, trying to understand what that meant. It was unlikely that she had gone through anything like what had preserved him for nearly seventy years. Was it possible that she was using her mutation to make herself look young? That didn't sound plausible, either. Vanity didn't seem to be one of her traits.

"How is that possible?"

"Remember when you first arrived here?" she asked. "Do you remember what you asked me?"

"I asked you why I had never come across mutants before and you told me that the answer took a lot to wrap my head around."

"I wasn't lying. You've never seen mutants before because they don't exist in this world. Until now, apparently. Your appearance threw us all for a loop."

"Wait, how-"

"Turns out, this universe isn't the only one in existence," she explained. "From the way Bali explained it to me is that there is no certain future. There are possibilities which become probabilities which in turn become realities. This one that we're living in right now, it's just one reality in several dozen. None of us are actually from this reality.

"Do you remember a few years back when that big alien invasion attacked New York and some group called the Avengers popped up and saved the city? We didn't have aliens or superheroes in our reality. Our reality had mutants. A friend of mine, Dmitri, he could cross the barriers between realities. He's the one who brought us here."

Steve felt a bit like his head was spinning. Mutations causing humans with superpowers had been one thing. He had, after all, spent time around Dr. Banner, and understood a little about how such a thing could occur. But multiple realities? It sounded like nothing he had ever heard before.

"I know," Nikki remarked, watching him carefully. "It takes a minute to work through the whole thing."

"Why would you come here?" he asked, turning to face her. "There's no one like you here. Why would you want to come here?"

"That's exactly why we came here. In my world, humans have come to hate mutants. They think we're dangerous and have been searching for a way to kill us for years. We've been on the brink of war since I was young. But there are already special people here. This is a world of gods and heroes, and people love them. It's safer here for us."

Steve's stomach twisted in knots as she spoke. She had no idea what was watching her kind in this world. She thought it was safe, and he was leading her on in that belief. What would happen when S.H.I.E.L.D. decided the passive approach wasn't enough? What would become of Nikki's family when reconnaissance stopped keeping the agency appeased?

"The initial plan was to send us for a few years," she continued. "We were going to test the waters, see if it was completely safe for us to exist here. But Dmitri disappeared a year ago and we've been stranded here as much as the rest of the mutants have been stranded there."

"But that doesn't explain how you're only thirty-nine."

She laughed lowly, "That's the part I don't entirely understand, either. It was 1973 when we left our reality, but it was 2011 when we arrived here. As far as I can tell, Dmitri can get the place perfectly, but he can't find the correct time. We think that's why we haven't seen him in so long. I wouldn't be surprised if he can't pinpoint exactly where we are in time."

"You would have been a child in the camps," he breathed, his mind going back to the few camps he and the Howling Commandos had run across.

"I was six when they first took my family and I," she answered, her eyes turned downward to stare at the floor. "The only reason I survived was because they learned my father was a mutant and so thought that my sister and I might be, as well."

"Is that why Hannah-?"

"Hannah's not my biological sister," Nikki corrected, looking embarrassed. "My sister died long ago at Auschwitz. But when I found Hannah, it was like looking at an old photograph. I couldn't leave her where she was. I'd never been able to save any of my family, and it seemed like I was being given a second chance. Especially after Anya."

Steve watched as Nikki got a faraway sort of look in her eyes, as though she wasn't really there with him.

"Anya was the name of your daughter," he said, though it was more of a question.

Her eyes snapped up to his, "How do you know about that?"

"Pietro mentioned that you had a daughter."

There was a moment of silence as Nikki looked away slightly, a dull pain in her brown eyes, "Yes. Her name was Anya."

"What happened to her?"

There was a guilty edge to her expression when she whispered, "Don't ask that of me, Steve."

_She blamed herself for something that wasn't her fault and, between you and me, I don't think she's ever forgiven herself._ The words echoed around in Steve's head like a broken record. She didn't meet his eyes, instead choosing to stare down at the floor with clenched fists. He didn't bother pressuring her for an answer. It was clear in Nikki's eyes that she didn't want to talk about it. Besides, he would rather not open up old wounds too deeply. He, instead, offered a half-smile as he looked at her.

"I take it your name's not really Nikki Whitfield, then."

"I'm afraid not," she answered, though her tone was flat.

"Do the kids know?"

"No," she said as she met his gaze at last. "And I'd prefer it if it stayed that way."

"Your secret's safe with me," he promised, trying not to wince at the lie.

Silence fell between them once more, though it was surprisingly not as tense as Steve had been expecting. They stood side by side against the wall, their arms nearly touching, and said nothing. It was oddly comforting and he could have sworn the wall between them had crumbled entirely.

"Magda."

The word broke Steve's train of thought and he had to turn to look at her before he seemed to catch up with what she had said.

"What?"

"My name," she explained, offering him a smile. "It's Magda Eisenhardt. Needless to say, it's not exactly inconspicuous."

Steve shrugged, "It suits you more than 'Nikki' does."

Her eyes widened in surprise, and he smiled in response.

"Thank you for telling me."

An amused ghost of a smile played across her lips. There was an edge of relief in her expression, as though the simple act of confiding in him had lifted a weight off her shoulders. Though she had not told him everything, and Steve guessed they would have been there much longer if she had, it was a surprising gesture coming from her.

The door crashing open caused both of them to jump and, not a second later, Pietro was standing before them with a broad grin on his face. Nikki gave an exasperated sigh at the sight of him.

"Pietro, what have I told you about running inside?" she asked, her tone equal parts long-suffering and forgiving. "You're going to put scorch marks in the floor _again_."

"I wasn't going _that_ fast," he protested.

"You never think you're going that fast," a voice called from the hall.

All three turned to see Wanda come walking in, accompanied by the rest of the mutants. Several of the teens were holding boxes wrapped in newspapers. Leigh and Ariana, on the other hand, were both carrying a large serving dish which displayed a lopsided and messily iced cake.

"Happy birthday, Nikki!" Remy laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "One more year and you'll hit the big four-oh. But don't worry, we'll all still love you when you're old and haggard."

"Seven years I've known you and you still don't know when to shut up," she retorted, cuffing the back of his head with a good-natured smile.

"Don't listen to him, Nik," Douglas snapped, a crooked smile on his face. "He's just jealous because you're prettier than he is."

Remy gave an indignant 'hey!' as Nikki shook her head at the two. A hand tapped Steve's shoulder and he looked down, meeting the eyes of Wanda Maximoff as she offered him a paper plate. As he took it with a smile, she stood on her toes to whisper in his ear.

"Pietro told me what you did," she told him. "Thanks, Steve."

She walked off to join her twin before he could reply. A hand slammed into his back, with too much force behind what was supposed to be a friendly gesture, and he stumbled forward a step. Bali grinned apologetically, his arm around Hannah's waist.

"Did you bake this?" Nikki asked, dragging Steve's attention back to the kids and their wobbling cake.

A proud smile crossed Leigh's face, "Mmm-hmm. Ariana and Hannah helped."

"Made it from scratch," Ariana added. "We were going to add matches, since we don't have any candles, but they kept burning out."

Nikki swiped a finger across one of the stripes of icing and took a taste, "Who needs candles when the cake tastes this good?"

Both kids beamed at her words, and Steve couldn't help but smile at the sight. Nikki looked around the room, an unreadable emotion in her eyes, as she took in all the wrapped presents.

"Is this all for me?"

"Every single one!" Tandy exclaimed.

"How did you pay for all of this?"

"Well, Remy, Bali, and Hannah all bought their own presents. Steve helped a little with the rest," Pietro explained.

The fifteen-year-old yelped sharply as Kurt elbowed him in the ribs. Pietro shot an irritable look at the German, but withered under his accusatory gaze.

"Steve paid for them all," Kurt corrected.

Nikki turned to look at him then, her eyes wide in shock. It was perhaps the most open he had ever seen her expression. He offered a smile and a shrug, hoping to convey the idea that it wasn't a big deal. Whether she got his message or not, he didn't know, but she seemed to think it was either way.

"Open mine first!"

Pietro shoved the thin present into Nikki's hands before she could even open her mouth. She fumbled with it for an instant, taken aback by the speed of the action. Her mouth curled up into a broad smile, her head shaking ever so slightly in amusement as she pulled away the newspaper.

Her fingers stilled as she pulled enough paper away to see the picture on the cover of the DVD she held. The smile slowly fell from her face, her eyes wide in shock as she stared down at it. Everyone fell silent as she pulled the rest of the paper off, revealing the title. There was a faraway look to her expression, as though she wasn't really in the same room as the rest of them, and she ran her thumb over the red and gold lettering.

Pietro's face fell, replaced by a look of worry, "Nikki? Is it not okay? We can take it back, if you want."

It was only when he reached out to her that she seemed to snap out of it. She looked up from the DVD, meeting Pietro's green-grey eyes. Kneeling down to look at him at eye-level, she put a hand on his shoulder, smiling broadly. Gone was the hollow expression that had dominated her features when she had first realized what movie it was.

"No," she whispered. "It's thoughtful and perfect. Thank you, Pietro."

She pulled him into a hug, her head resting on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. There was something about the way she held him that struck Steve by surprise. It almost looked as though she was starved for touch.

* * *

><p>Agent Jasper Sitwell was not used to being called up to the offices of the higher ranking agents. In fact, he would have much rather preferred to altogether avoid the offices of any S.H.I.E.L.D. divisions that required offices at all. He wasn't a field agent, by any means, but he enjoyed the open labs of the R&amp;D and intel department. His fingers tightened on the tablet he held as he knocked on the office door.<p>

"Come in."

Sitwell entered immediately, ready to get out as soon as he could, "I brought the files you asked for, sir."

Alexander Pierce glanced up from his laptop, a half-smile crossing his face, "Thank you, Agent Sitwell."

The agent remained where he was, waiting to be dismissed. He refused to immediately turn around to leave and subsequently make an ass of himself. The words spoken to him, however, were not those he had hoped for.

"What is your impression of Captain Rogers' reports on the Alchemist and the other so-called mutants?"

Sitwell offered a tight smile, "My clearance level is not high enough to know the details on the Alchemist mission, sir."

"Off the record, Jasper."

In an instant, the agent's entire demeanor changed. The long-suffering, almost meek espionage agent and science expert disappeared. A critical, disciplined man with little to fear had taken his place.

"The Alchemist's abilities are virtually unlimited in potential. Her only weakness is her stubborn sense of morality. With the proper training, she could be a valuable asset. Many of the other mutants display similar potential, particularly Hannah Whitfield. In my personal opinion, all it would take for the Alchemist to become what we need is a little push."

"What would you suggest?"

"Is the World Security Council still pushing for Director Fury to make a move?"

"Yes."

"Then we should make a move."

Pierce was silent for a minute before giving a sharp nod, "That will be all, agent."

And, with that, Sitwell fell back into his more unassuming image. He nodded his head in understanding.

"Of course, sir."

With nothing more to be said, the agent turned around and walked out of the office.


	11. Chapter Ten

**_Once this one got started, it didn't want to stop. I'm afraid my German is a bit lacking, so if anything is wrong, please let me know. I'm going to check with a friend tomorrow, but all help is appreciated. I should warn you, though, this is the last chapter before everything hits the fan. But, for now, I hope you enjoy!_**

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><p><em>And I want to tell you about everything but I can't because I couldn't stand for you to have that look on your face all the time. I just need you to look at me and think I'm normal. I just really need that from you."<em>

_-Nina LaCour_

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><p>The madness that ensued after Pietro's gift was one that was enjoyable. The kids had wasted no time in shoving their own presents towards Nikki for her to open, crowding around her so that it was nearly impossible to see her. Cake had been passed around, each slice a startling different size as though someone wasn't sure how to properly cut a cake, and Steve found it was just as good as Nikki had said.<p>

The rest of the day went similarly. Bali dug out a few board games from the attic, some of which Steve hadn't seen since he was a kid. They looked to be seventy years old, too, what with the faded boxes and worn edges. Wanda had insisted that they watch the movie next. It had been a story Steve had known before waking up from the ice, and so he spent more time watching the others and how they reacted. Somehow, he had managed to get himself sandwiched between Tyrone and Nikki.

The kids seemed to like it enough. They had the good graces to watch in silence, occasionally whispering into another's ear. Remy sat just behind Samantha, absentmindedly braiding the fourteen-year-old's messy red hair. Hannah sat on Bali's lap, as there was very little room to squeeze in even after a few of the kids had taken the floor, and leaned her head against his shoulder.

But Steve's main focus was on Nikki herself. He watched out of the corner of his eye as every emotion lay open on her expression in the flickering light of the television. The most interesting development was when Tuptim and Lun Tha sang their duet, a song that seemed to be called 'We Kiss In A Shadow', and Wanda turned to Nikki.

"Are they really going to end up together?"

Nikki gave her a smile, "I can't tell you that. You'll have to wait and see."

"I don't get why she would stay with the king if she's so unhappy," Douglas muttered, crossing his arms.

The expression which crossed Nikki's face was far from what Steve had expected. It was as though she had been taken away from the present, her eyes unfocused and a sharp pain etched onto her face.

"Maybe she was happy once, and hopes they can be happy together again."

Something in her words, Steve thought, sounded as though she wasn't talking about Tuptim. On a whim, he reached out for her hand. Her eyes snapped up to his in surprise. He offered a soft smile, squeezing her hand as if to provide some small form of comfort. Another wave of guilt rippled through him when she smiled back.

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><p>Steve sat on the edge of his bed with his elbows propped on his knees, staring down at the cell phone in his hands. It wasn't the phone Tony had given him with contacts for all of the Avengers and anyone he could possibly need. This was the nondescript, S.H.I.E.L.D. regulation phone with only one number programmed into the speed dial.<p>

Had he been following the plan, he should have contacted and debriefed Clint and Natasha two days ago. The only reason they hadn't checked in was that they probably figured he was having a hard time getting privacy and wouldn't dare blow his cover. The truth of the matter, which he didn't even truly want to admit to himself, was that he didn't want to call anymore. He didn't want to tell S.H.I.E.L.D. any more about the little family he had found in the House. He didn't want to potentially put them in danger. He didn't want to betray Nikki's fragile trust.

With a clenched jaw, he flipped it open and pressed the single button. Natasha answered immediately after the first ring.

"Steve? What is it? Is something wrong?"

She sounded worried. Of course, he hadn't checked in with them in roughly two weeks. He didn't plan to tell her anymore, though, and she would not be pleased with the discussion about to come. But he had always been someone who stood up for what he believed in. It was about time he started doing so again.

"I'm fine," he reassured. "It's the mission."

"Is that Steve?"

Clint's voice was distant and barely audible through the cell phone. Steve's brows furrowed, as the archer sounded a little groggy as though he had just woken up. He barely heard Natasha shush him before she got back on.

"What about it?"

He sighed, "This isn't right. These are good people – honest people. We shouldn't be deceiving them, much less working against them."

"And what do you suggest we do, Captain?"

"We should pull out and leave them alone," he said. "None of these kids are dangerous, and neither are the adults."

Natasha sounded almost resigned when she answered, "We can't pull out."

"Why not?"

The words came out harsher than he intended, but he almost didn't care. He had spent the past few months with Nikki and the rest, not Natasha and Clint, and he knew what they were like. He had grown close to them, not the assassins. They didn't know the mutants like he did.

"Our mission is to determine the House's inhabitants' potential to be dangerous and, if possible, assimilate them into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s allies," she pointed out. "They're all on the Index as it is. If we leave now, they'll be marked down as unknowns. What will happen then is worse than a little deception."

It was as though the room's temperature dropped several degrees. Steve had been told about S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Gifted Persons Index, and he had also heard of what happened to half of the people on it. With Nikki's gifts, and her slight instability in them, she would likely end up locked in some underground prison on some island without a name. The thought of any of them ending up like that made him almost see red

"You put them on the Index?"

"Every person with some semblance of superhuman abilities goes on the Index."

"You shouldn't have allowed it!"

"It wasn't my call to make, Steve," she snapped. "What would you have us do? Betray S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Something, anything!" he hissed, using all his self-control to keep from shouting. "Listen, you tell Fury to cancel the whole mission, to take every one of these people off the Index, and to rescind all files on the Alchemist. Then you and Clint get out of here. I'll figure something out for myself."

"That's not within Fury's jurisdiction. The World Security Council has been breathing down his neck since the Alchemist started popping up in grainy videos on YouTube. If he backs out now, it will give them the excuse to remove him from his position as Director."

"Either it gets done, or I tell Nikki everything," he warned.

There was silence for a full minute before Natasha answered, "You've seen the way she reacts to S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. She won't be friendly just because she thinks she knows you."

"I know. And I'm willing to risk it."

"Steve-"

"Three days," he snapped, cutting her off. "That's how long Fury has before I tell her."

He gave her no time to answer, hanging up abruptly before tossing the phone onto his bed with more force than necessary. It was luck alone that kept it from shattering. He stared after it, trying to even out his breathing again, when an appreciative whistle grabbed his attention. Remy stood in the doorway, staring at Steve with raised eyebrows.

"What happened?" he asked, a forced playful tone to his words. "Girlfriend decided a long-distance relationship wasn't working for her anymore? Or boyfriend, if you're into the other team. Seems to be pretty common nowadays."

Steve gave a wan smile, though it was as natural as the mutant's tone, "Yeah, something like that."

"The plus twenty-ones are having a drink now that the minors are all asleep. I thought you might not want to be a stranger."

"Sure," he replied, walking after Remy. "You have anything strong?"

Remy gave a sharp laugh, "Before he disappeared on us, our friend Dmitri stocked us up with enough vodka from his home to inebriate the population of Liechtenstein. Damned Russian could drink us all under the table."

Steve laughed as they walked down the stairs. Only the kitchen was fully lit, shadows of Nikki, Hannah, and Bali flitting in and out of view in the strip of light filtering through the door. Upbeat music, almost folk in genre, could be faintly heard from the bottom of the stairs.

The sight within the kitchen brought a smile to Steve's face. A small iPod was connected to a stereo on the counter, blaring music of fiddles, tambourines, and drums. Hannah sat on the table, clapping to the beat with a laugh, as she watched Nikki and Bali dance. The two wore broad smiles on their faces as they twirled and stomped to the music in a dance that almost reminded him of tap and swing mixed together.

He swung her out the second Steve and Remy walked in, causing her to stumble into Steve. Bali then lifted Hannah off the table and the two seemed to forget the others were there. Remy leaned against a free wall, nodding his head to the beat, and grabbed a beer from the table. From where she stood pressed up against him, Nikki looked up to meet Steve's blue eyes with a sheepish smile.

"Steve," she muttered, her eyes narrowing at him slightly as she took a step back. "Are you alright?"

He took a second to mentally collect himself at the way she saw through his forced expression, "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

She gave a shrug, "You look a little out of it. Or like you could use a stiff drink, which I guess is why Remy brought you."

He watched as she sat down in the chair next to the little table, picking up an open bottle and taking a swig. The label was impossible to read from the way she held it.

"What's that?" he asked, taking a seat next to her.

"Bitburger."

Steve raised his eyebrows, "German beer?"

"_Das beste_," she whispered, leaning in just enough so that only he could here her. "Not a fan, I'm guessing?"

"I always used to drink Ballantine."

Nikki nearly choked on her beer at his words, her hand flying to cover her mouth as she coughed. The ex-soldier looked at her in alarm as she finally stopped and looked up at him.

"You drink that swill?"

Steve was taken aback by the genuine disgust in her tone, "What's wrong with it?"

"Friends don't let friends drink bad beer," she said emphatically, standing up so that she could walk over to the fridge.

He tried and failed to bite back a laugh at the weight she seemed to place in the situation. She pulled another bottle from the fridge, popping off the top before returning to the table and giving it to him. Despite the anger he had felt just minutes before coming to the kitchen, much to the help of Nikki and the light atmosphere in the room, Steve felt happier and more comfortable in that moment than he had in a long time.

She watched him as he took a drink, her eyebrows rising as he choked on it. It was earthy and bitter and certainly not what Steve had been expecting. His nose wrinkled, though he swallowed it down without complaint, and put the bottle down. The sound of Nikki's laugh brought his attention back to her. Her eyes were scrunched closed, her lips pulled back in a broad smile as she giggled at his expression. In the faint light of the kitchen, her coppery skin looked a shade darker, her hair and eyelashes almost black. He couldn't help but smile in reply.

"What?"

"Lightweight," she teased, taking another swig of her own.

Steve's eyes wandered away from Nikki, as he didn't want to be caught staring, and towards the others. Remy stood in the far corner, swaying to the music with a bottle of wine in his hands. But it was Bali and Hannah dancing across the linoleum to an unfamiliar tune which captured his interest. They seemed completely engrossed with each other, the world around them apparently not existing. There was something about what he had seen of their relationship that seemed to speak of years of familiarity. The two acted more like a couple who had been married for years rather than a couple of young lovers.

"How long have they been together?" he asked curiously.

"Four years," she answered. "You'd think it was longer looking at them, wouldn't you?"

The almost longing edge to her voice brought him back to her and he watched the way she looked at her surrogate sister and her boyfriend. Nikki watched them with a happy expression, but there was something in her gaze that spoke of a time when she had been like Hannah with someone. Erik, Steve guessed, as it seemed to be the name everyone knew but never spoke of.

"Do you want to dance?" he asked.

"Would if I could," she replied with a sigh. "I used to dance with my mother and my sister when I was young. And then with Anya, when I found she loved music. This is the first time I've actually danced with anyone since…" – she cut herself off sadly before giving him an unconcerned look – "I guess it's just hard to find the right partner."

Her words struck him, reminding him of his own time, "Yeah, it is."

Silence fell between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. When the slow song switched off, transitioning to another upbeat tune without lyrics, Nikki seemed to perk up a bit. Her brown eyes wandered to him and she suddenly offered him her hand.

"Join me?"

He smiled sheepishly, "I don't know how to dance to this music."

She shrugged, "Good thing you don't really need to know how."

Without further ado, she pulled him further into the kitchen and took a step back, "Try to copy me. Then, we'll have the real fun."

She began a simple step-dance, her eyes never leaving his as she moved. Steve slowly began to mimic her movements and, though Freyja had somewhat taught him to dance, he was a bit clumsy for the first few minutes. Nikki quickened her pace as he slowly got the hang of it. Soon she grabbed hold of his hands once more, dancing in circles with him to no particular style. She laughed at the initial shock on his face.

The song began to play faster and faster, reaching a crescendo of fiddles and drums, and the two sped up their dancing to match. Steve and Nikki spun around each other, laughing almost breathlessly as the world seemed to fall away around them. It was then that he entirely forgot his earlier anger at Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D. Instead, his focus was on Nikki. Though she had aged well, not to say she was all that old compared to his roughly ninety years, she looked much younger before him. It was as though her stress and troubles melted away in the music.

As the song reached the end, Steve swung her outward and back towards him. She fell back into him, her hands pressing flat against his chest and her head leaning towards his shoulder, with a sharp laugh. There was an almost giddy smile on her face when she looked up at him once more.

"Sorry," she breathed, pushing just a few inches away from him. "I got a little carried away."

Steve gave a nonchalant shrug, "It's no trouble."

As the song switched to a song from his era, Steve couldn't help but look up in surprise.

"Is that _Falling In Love Again_ by Marlene Dietrich?"

Nikki nodded, "Bali has interesting tastes in music that range all the way back to Beethoven. You know it?"

"I saw it," he answered, biting his tongue before he could say that he had seen it when it had first come over to the States. "A long time ago.

"My parents used to listen to it every other night," she sighed, a bittersweet edge to her voice. "Before the war, I mean. I still remember a few of the neighbors would play it. _Ich bin von Kopf bis Fuß auf Liebe eingestellt, denn das ist meine Welt._"

Though a little off-key, Nikki's voice was soft and pleasant like a lullaby as she sang. He smiled down at her, listening as her voice matched up with that of the singer, and led them into a slow rocking sort of dance to match the music. She leaned her head against his shoulder once more and closed her eyes. Steve could smell liquor and lemongrass soap, the latter being a scent he had come to associate with Nikki.

"Can I tell you a secret?" she whispered.

"Of course."

She leaned up on her toes, her breath warm against his ear, "_Wenn wir in ein anderes Leben knnengelernt hatte, denke ich, ich könnte dich lieben_."

A small smile crossed his lips and he turned to whisper in her ear, "That's alright. _Wenn wir in ein anderes Leben knnengelernt hatte, ich weiß, ich könnte dich lieben_."

She pulled away, her eyes startled as she looked at him. Whether it was by the fact that he spoke German, something he picked up on the front lines, or by his words, he wasn't sure.

"I should probably mention that I see loving someone and being in love as two different sentiments," he continued, keeping his voice low. "You can love someone without being in love with them. And the opposite is equally true."

Her lips parted in surprise, though she didn't look quite so much like a deer in headlights anymore. There was a thoughtful look in her eyes before she glanced down and gave a rueful smile.

"What is it?"

She shook her head, "I never thought about it like that. But it does explain many things about my relationship with my ex-husband."

"Anya's father?"

"Yes," she said softly, the dull ache coming back into her dark eyes. "It was complicated between us."

Steve shook his head, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do."

The laugh she gave in response was not one of amusement, "Where have you been all my life, Steve? You're like my own personal Superman."

"I'm not Superman," he assured, his tone softening as she looked shock at the sharpness of his words. "Shove me off a building and I won't fly."

This time, she did laugh out of amusement. She looked away, as if to hide her smile, and noticed something she hadn't before.

"When did the others leave?"

Steve looked up and around the kitchen, realizing that Bali, Hannah, and Remy had disappeared sometime in his distraction. Bali's iPod still played slower-paced music from eras long since passed. He frowned thoughtfully, looking back at Nikki.

"I'm not sure," he answered. "You could join them, if you want."

Her fingers clung harder to his shirt and Steve's attention snapped back down to Nikki.

"Can we stay here for just a little while longer?"

Steve hesitated before nodding, watching as she smiled back at him as though relieved. She leaned her head back against his shoulder and hummed to the music. They stayed that way for minutes, perhaps hours, without saying a word to each other. There was something easy about the entire scenario and neither of them wanted to let go.

He could have told her then and there, but something stopped him. It was either the fact that he had given Fury three days, and Steve was mostly a man of his word, or that he didn't want to ruin the serene moment at the time. So he wrapped his arms around her waist and closed his eyes, listening to the sound of her humming with the music.


	12. Chapter Eleven

_"'It was a mistake,' you said. But the cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you."_

_-David Levithan_

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><p>Three days he had given Fury to meet his demands and three days had passed without change. Steve had played along as though nothing was wrong. The days had been filled with the usual routine he had fallen into: packing lunches for the teens, helping to clean up and fix more of the House, running for supplies, and, oftentimes, carrying Nikki up to her room whenever she fell asleep at the kitchen table.<p>

It was just after dark on the third day when he finally broke into the S.H.I.E.L.D. database, after a quick call to Tony for help, and checked the Index. All fifteen mutants were still listed under their own file of superhumans. Nothing had changed, and he had been a fool to think Fury would simply cave into his demands. But Steve would keep his word.

Nikki was in the living room when he found her, sketchpad propped on her knee as she perched on one of the few hole-less spots on the couch. She was completely oblivious to him entering the room as she drew. The sound of a pencil scratching against paper was one familiar to him and, had the situation been a more serene one, he might have smiled at it. She looked up at him the second he sat down on the seat across from her.

"Hey," she said with a smile. "You're up late again. I'm starting to wonder if you even sleep at all." – a thoughtful expression crossed her face – "That isn't part of your mutation, is it?"

"No," he answered. "I just don't sleep well."

"Nightmares?"

He looked up at her in surprise, meeting her dark eyes. She put her pencil and sketchbook down on the coffee table.

"I get them sometimes. It's why I usually wake up so early."

"What about?"

Nikki shrugged, "My time in Auschwitz. The place where I found Hannah. Anya's death. It just depends."

Steve felt a painful tug in his chest, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she answered, shaking her head. "It's not as though you can control it."

His eyes turned downward, as he almost didn't want to meet her gaze, and fell upon the beginnings of her drawing.

"Is that me?"

A pale blush crept up her cheeks, "Yes. Though it's not turning out that well. I'm more of a painter at heart, but pencils are cheaper."

Steve tilted the sketchbook his way, admiring the half-finished work. It was well drawn, despite her comment about being a painter, and obviously had been a project she was putting a good deal of effort into. He looked up at her when she suddenly pulled it back into her lap.

"Why?"

She looked perplexed at his question, "Why what?"

"Why me?"

"I like to draw those who are important to me," she answered. "Will you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

She smiled, "Sit still so I can get your eyes right."

Steve fought back a smile of his own, "Alright."

The look of gratefulness was only on her face for a fraction of a second before she returned her attention to her sketch. She leaned over the paper slightly as she worked, occasionally glancing up at him to get a look at specific details. Steve sat there quietly as she worked, thinking over what he had to do and how to go about telling her the truth.

He regretted having to tell her that he had been deceiving her from the very start. After all she had been through, what he could piece together from the parts she had told him, he didn't want to be the one to shatter her fragile trust. She had told him who she really was and who she had been. That alone, Steve thought, must have cost a good deal of courage on her part.

The sound of a pencil tapping against the table caught his attention and he looked up to see Nikki watching him. She had dropped her feet back down to the floor from where they had been curled up under her, a position which looked much more comfortable, and was leaned forward.

"You there, Steve?" she asked.

He offered a tight smile, "Yeah. Did you want me to turn my head or…?"

"I'm finished," she replied with a shake of her head, tilting the sketchpad towards him. "Looks like I just needed you to model for me."

The sketch was beautifully done. It bore the same careful effort as the drawings in the portfolio she had shone him months ago. His simple, boy-next-door features were translated nearly perfectly onto the page. Steve picked up the sketchpad carefully, inspecting each graceful line.

"What's wrong?"

He looked up to see a worried expression on Nikki's face. She watched him closely, her body language speaking of the unease she was feeling. Deciding that he could put it off no longer, as it would only prove worse if he continued to lie, he set down the sketch and walked around the coffee table to stand directly in front of her. It took all of his strength to meet her worried gaze.

"There's something I need to tell you."

The look she gave him made his throat tighten. There was a desperate sort of hope in her expression, but a terrified doubt in her dark eyes. He knew this wasn't going to be easy, and part of him wanted to tell her something trivial, but he couldn't pretend forever. The lies needed to stop.

"I haven't been entirely honest with you," he started, stifling a cringe when she visibly deflated. "There's a lot that I haven't told you and, after everything you've told me, I want to return the favor."

"Steve-" she began, her voice trailing off as her eyes focused on something beyond him. "Get down!"

She leapt forward, tugging him to the ground with her as something flew over their heads with a loud _whish_. The sound of that something landing against the floor, one which Steve very nearly recognized, caught his attention and he turned his head to see dendrotoxin grenade a few feet from them. Nikki cursed softly, waving her hand in the grenade's direction. The blue mist pouring from the grenade stopped two feet away from the center, as though surrounded by a bubble.

"Nikki!"

Both looked up to see a flustered Bali rushing down the stairs. The raven-haired man froze when he saw the broken window and grenade, a string of words in a familiar lilting language escaping him. He made to move forward, no doubt to help protect Steve and Nikki, but she leapt to her feet and pushed him back.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.," she spat. "Damn it."

"Let me help," Bali whispered.

"No! Wake the kids and get them out of here."

Steve pushed himself to his feet, rushing towards the stairwell as a torrent of I.C.E.R. bullets flew through the window. He managed to reach them just in time to see Bali's look of disbelief, no doubt in response to what Nikki was implying.

"I will not leave you here," he snapped.

"They need you to protect them," she countered. "I've got this. Go!"

Bali hesitated only a second before nodding gravely and running back up the stairs. With him gone, Nikki turned to Steve.

"Go help him," she ordered. "Unless you're invulnerable, I'm not sure super strength is going to help us against S.H.I.E.L.D."

Without another word, she raced for the door and out into the night. It sounded as though there was an army outside and Steve's heart dropped. He should have known that Fury wouldn't sit idly as he told Nikki everything. It never crossed his mind, however, that he would send in an attack on the entire House. He never wanted anyone to get hurt. Even if the House had turned out to hide HYDRA agents, it was never his intention to get anyone killed.

Steve raced out the door after her, hoping to both buy some time for the kids to get safely out of the House and to keep the agents outside from killing Nikki. He knew her well enough to know that she would die to protect those kids and would make damn sure the agents never got any information from her. It would take nothing short of a miracle, if such could even be worked in the current situation, for her to even end up alive.

She was holding her own fairly well against the agents, given the circumstances. Anger raged in her eyes as she manipulated the world around her to her advantage. Fires burst into existence, the ground opened up to swallow agents whole, and some fell to the floor as she removed the oxygen from small pockets of the atmosphere. He watched in shock and horror as I.C.E.R. bullets disintegrated before they were within a foot of her reach.

His previous belief had been partially wrong. She wasn't just going to go down fighting, but she was going to take down as many agents with her as she could.

Steve forced himself closer, despite the feeling of light-headedness that overcame him as he reached within three feet of her. He reached out for her and grabbed her hand.

"Nikki."

She didn't seem to hear him, much less notice him, in her rage. Her focus was spent entirely on the attacking agents.

"Nikki, stop!"

Three more agents went down as they were engulfed in flames.

"You're killing them, Magda!"

The use of her real name seemed to snap her out of it and she looked at him with the most conflicted expression. A wave of her hand brought a wall of flames up between them and the agents beyond. The screams had stopped, much to Steve's relief, so the wall must have taken most of her energy.

"I don't want to hurt anyone," she said. "But I won't let anyone hurt my family again."

"These people have families, too."

An affronted expression crossed her face, "Why are you defending them? They attacked us. What could possibly make you-?"

It seemed to dawn on her then, her eyes widening as she stared at him. Her lips parted in surprise as an almost heartbroken expression dominated her features.

"What was it that you weren't being truthful about, Steve?"

The words were quiet against the roaring inferno. But the hard edge, the thinly-veiled accusation, was unmistakable in her voice. He shook his head sadly, wishing he had anything to say other than the truth.

"I'm sorry, Nikki."

For a second, she simply stood before him in disbelief. Shadows and light from the fire danced across the planes of her face as though she was a chiaroscuro painting. She certainly looked the part of a Shakespeare tragedy brought to life visually. He could see her crumbling at his confession, as though it was the final betrayal she could take.

And then her face transformed into a mask of fury before his eyes. She reached forward and slammed the palm of her hand into his chest, a sudden gust of wind pushing him back and away from her. A groan escaped him as he slammed against the wall of the House. It was only seconds later that she was before him once more, her face entirely cast in darkness with the fire behind her.

"You bastard!" she snarled, her hand on his throat as the atmosphere around him seemed to propel him off the ground.

He hovered a few inches off the grass, his back digging into the bricks behind him as she pressed hard against his neck.

"How could you?" she demanded. "We trusted you. _I trusted you_!"

His hands reached for hers, trying to pry her fingers off of him. Spots danced before his vision but he could still see the hurt in her eyes. Though he deserved her rage, as he had done nothing but lie to her for the majority of his stay, he wondered if he deserved death in her eyes. He had put her family in jeopardy. How far would she go for them?

Before he could black out, she removed her hand from his throat and Steve fell unceremoniously back to the floor. She backed away, clenching her fists hard enough to draw blood, and he sucked in a relieved breath. Tears were streaking down her face when he looked up at her once more.

"No," she breathed. "I'm not like Erik."

She sounded upset and angry, though more towards herself than at him. Her brown eyes sought out his again and, this time, he could not look away.

"Why? Why would you do this?"

The desperation in her voice was clear, as though she needed to know his answer. He opened his mouth to speak, to say the entire truth at last, but his words were snatched away as she suddenly doubled over in pain before him. An arrow protruded from her shoulder. Looking over her shoulder, Steve could see the faint silhouette of Clint beyond the wall of fire.

White light pulsed beneath Nikki's skin and an explosion wracked the House behind him. She looked up at him in horror, one hand clutching her wounded shoulder, as the light beneath her skin flickered rapidly. The air around them grew hot.

"I can't stop it."

Her words were frantic and afraid, her teeth grit in pain. Steve reached for her but pulled back his hand as a searing pain raced up his arm. The skin of his hand was black, as though he had pressed his palm to an open flame, and welts were beginning to form. She stumbled away from him, her good hand reaching up to rake her fingers through her hair. The pulsing light only increased in speed as she did.

"I can't stop it," she repeated. "I don't know how to stop it."

Another gasp escaped her and Steve watched in shock as her veins seemed to turn blue before she collapsed to the ground. He looked up from where she had fallen, his eyes meeting Natasha's. The spy stood a few feet from the wall of flames, which had now dwindled down to a few burning patches of grass, an I.C.E.R. in her hand. Steve knelt beside Nikki, pressing two fingers against her neck with his good hand.

Satisfied that she was only unconscious, he turned his attention back to Natasha, "Was this Fury's idea of pulling out? I thought I made it clear that these people were innocent."

"She just injured a dozen agents," she pointed out. "We're lucky there are no casualties."

"The only reason there aren't any is because Nikki isn't a killer. There were kids in that house!"

Clint stepped over the flames, his bow in hand, "It's not personal."

Both looked mildly guilty at what their actions had caused, but he knew where their loyalties lay. If push came to shove, as it usually did, they would do what they thought was best. Apparently that meant following S.H.I.E.L.D.'s orders. That didn't make Steve any happier with their decision.

"What if one of them had gotten hurt? What if one of them is hurt?"

He stood up abruptly with his words, his hands clenched in anger at what had happened. Natasha leveled her I.C.E.R. at him.

"Don't make me pull this trigger, Steve."

"I'm not going back to Fury," he said. "Not now. I've got to find the kids. I owe that much to Nikki."

The ex-soldier looked down at Nikki, who was sprawled across the grass with an arrow sticking from her shoulder. All he had wanted was to make sure HYDRA wasn't making allies out of the Alchemist. Now the kids were scattered, Nikki was hurt, the House was burning, and it was entirely his fault. He wanted to atone for that.

"Steve-"

He never heard the rest of Natasha's sentence as her words were swallowed by the sound of a gunshot. Something hard tore through his shirt and hit his chest, a sharp pain exploding through him. His vision went blue, the world seemed to tilt sideways, and then everything was black.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**_Go, this one took forever to write. I had originally meant for Nikki and Steve to have a huge fallout with her venting all of her anger, but then I realized that Nikki has grown from that. She's not a violent person by nature and it would be closer to her giving up the fight after all she's been through._**

**_ On another note, I finally saw Age of Ultron, and I swear I saw bits that correlated with my stories. Steve chastising Tony for his language (which would absolutely come out of his mouth after months at the House), Natasha calming down the Hulk (after Freyja's faith in his control), and Tony rebuilding the Tower to make it more Avengers-friendly. I will probably throw in a few little nods to the movie, but this will always be sort of AU._**

**_Anyway, big twists coming up in the next to chapters. As always, PM me if you want spoilers. Enjoy!_**

**_Song of the chapter: Elastic Heart ~ Sia_**

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><p><em>"He, who had done more than any human being to draw her out of the caves of her secret, folded life, now threw her down into deeper recesses of fear and doubt. The fall was greater than she had ever known, because she had ventured so far into emotion and had abandoned herself to it."<em>

_-Anaïs Nin_

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><p>Steve awoke in a white room similar to the one he had been in after being pulled from the ice. Of course, it was not modeled to look like a recovery room from his era. This one was full of modern machines measuring his heart rate and other vitals. His vision swam for a minute, mimicking his own fogged mind, before he managed to focus on a familiar face framed in vivid red hair.<p>

"Nat?"

The spy gave a faint smile, "About time you woke up?"

"What happened?"

Even as he asked, bits and pieces of the disastrous night came back to him. They were blurred and muffled as though something was keeping his mind from functioning.

"Rookie agent thought you were one of the mutants and shot you with an I.C.E.R.," she explained. "Fury put him on indefinite desk duty."

Mutants. The word seemed to snap everything back into focus for Steve. He had been telling Nikki the truth about who he was, an attempt which had been interrupted when S.H.I.E.L.D. had attacked. The thought of Nikki and the kids, and what danger they could be in, had the ex-soldier pushing himself off the stiff cot he lay on.

"Nikki-"

Natasha put a hand on his shoulder, "She's fine, Steve. Fury had her put under heavy sedation after she nearly blew up her holding cell."

"She's being drugged?"

"She put forty-two of our agents in the hospital wards," she replied easily. "She nearly went nuclear last night and was giving off 1,800 curies of radiation. You're lucky you've got the super serum or you would have lost your hand."

Steve shook his head, "That was an accident. She's upset. Her powers are unstable at the best of times, but Bali said she loses control entirely when she's angered or grieving. We forced her into both last night."

"It doesn't much matter what pushed her over the edge. She's dangerous and Fury's orders were to keep her sedated while he tries to talk the World Security Council from sending Homeland Security after the rest of the mutants. I'm sorry."

The thought of Homeland Security going after Nikki's family caused a pang of panic to wash over him. He thought of all the kids – of Kurt and his fear of being seen in public as he actually was, of Leigh who was still was afraid of the dark, of Wanda who was shy at the best of times and downright reclusive at the worst, of Kevin who wouldn't be able to use his humor to cope with the stress as he usually did. And then there was Hannah. Trusting, kind Hannah who was likely in a disassociation spell so deep that it would take hours for Bali to finally bring her back.

Angered that his good intentions had caused such chaos, Steve pushed himself the rest of the way off the cot. Natasha didn't move to stop him as he left. She simply watched him with a sad expression, both of them knowing that she hadn't wanted to hurt any innocents either. The thought, regardless of how it matched his own, offered the ex-soldier no comfort.

He marched through the halls of the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, quickly recognizing it as a Helicarrier rather than a base. A few agents, those who saw him coming, disappeared down adjoining hallways or through the nearest door. One unlucky soul approached him.

"Captain Rogers," he started. "Is there anything…?"

He stopped when he saw the Avenger's hard expression, taking a step back as Steve grew closer.

"Where's Nikki?"

"Captain, I'm not-"

"The Alchemist," he suggested, cutting the young man's words off. "The mutant prisoner. Where is she?"

The agent gulped, "Director Fury gave us specific instructions to not reveal any details to you on the status of the prisoner. He says you're too close to the mission and could jeopardize what remains of the operation."

Steve clamped a hand down on the agent's shoulder, the gesture meant only to intimidate. He wouldn't hurt the young man before him, regardless of how infuriated he became, but he had no time to waste.

"Son," he sighed, making the end of his patience known. "Just don't."

The agent's eyes widened for a second before he spoke again, "Keep heading that way, second hallway on your left, take the first right, and it's the third door on your right. Place is covered in scorch marks, you can't miss it."

"Thank you. Now, was that so hard?"

The agent didn't answer the almost cheerful words, but it didn't much matter either way to the super soldier. He let the man go and quickly walked in the direction the agent had pointed him in. It didn't take long to find where they were keeping her, especially as the rest of the agents he ran across tended to duck out of the way when they saw the expression on his face, and he found himself hesitating outside the door.

He almost dreaded speaking to Nikki now. Of course, he had good reason. She had nearly killed him the previous night, though she had stopped with a comment about not being like the mysterious Erik he kept hearing about, and had tried to blow up her room when she awoke. It wasn't likely that she would want to speak to him. If she wanted to see him at all, it would be a miracle.

Still, he pushed through the metal door to find himself standing before an observation room with a large piece of glass separating him from the actual holding cell. Beyond the glass, dressed in loose white scrubs and stretched out on a medical cot, was Nikki. An IV drip stood beside her cot and a needle was inserted into the crook of her right arm.

Steve looked over the control panel, internally wincing as he noticed the keypad to get into the holding cell. His gaze turned back to Nikki lying prone on the cot as he thought of what to do now. Much to his chagrin, he had not thought this far about what he was going to do, even though his intention had been to stop them from drugging her and explain everything. A hand reaching past him to type in the key code broke his train of thought and he looked over his shoulder to see Natasha. The door swung open silently, much to his surprise, and she shrugged at his expression

"I owed you," she said in reply, walking out before he could thank her.

He watched as she left, smiling at the gesture that all but dictated her apology, before he turned back to Nikki. There was much that he needed to say and no more time to stall. He stepped into the empty white cell, his mind going to how the umber of her skin contrasting starkly against it, and stopped before her cot. She looked almost as peaceful as the night he had danced with her.

He carefully pulled the needle out from her arm, shaking her shoulder to wake her up. It looked as though they had bandaged up the arrow wound and he tried to be as gentle as possible.

"Nikki?" he whispered. "Nikki, wake up."

She awoke with a start, her eyes fluttering open in almost panic as she gasped for breath. The next second disappeared in a blur as Steve suddenly found himself on his back as Nikki forced him down. There was an unseeing terror in her eyes, as if she wasn't entirely seeing what was around them, and she raised her hand to strike him. She seemed to become more frightened as he reached up to clasp her hand.

"Nikki," he breathed, trying to keep his tone low and soothing. "It's me. You're safe now."

She blinked slowly, her brown eyes focusing on what was before her as a look of relief crossed her face. Hope welled up within him at her expression, as she might still forgive him for deceiving her, before disgust painted itself across her face. She pushed away from him, drawing her hands close to her chest as though his skin had burned her.

"You," she spat. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," he said honestly.

The laugh she gave was sharp and sardonic, cutting him to the quick, "You mean after S.H.I.E.L.D. shot me with an arrow and burnt down my house?"

Steve winced at her words, knowing that it certainly didn't sound good from her perspective. He took a step towards her, hoping to close the growing distance between them, but she stepped back automatically. Gone was the silent trust and comfort she had expressed towards him in the past few months. The closed-off mask that she had greeted him with when he first came to the House was back, further reminding him of what he had done.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't even begin to cover this," she retorted, practically collapsing onto her cot as she watched him. "Just go away, Steve. Or whatever the hell your real name is."

And, in that moment, Steve decided he was going to at least keep one of his promises. He stood a little straighter as he met her gaze evenly.

"No," he said. "You deserve to know the truth and I'm not leaving until I say it."

"Do I have much of a choice in the matter?"

The words were vehement and sharp, as though she wanted to hurt him with the fact that he had been the cause for why her freedom was taken away. Of course, she could have always used her power to knock him out and escape, but it would not be long before the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents found her. She would wind up back in the same situation as Steve had found her in. She must have found it preferable to do nothing and remain conscious than try to fight and be sedated.

"You could always run."

She almost looked insulted by the suggestion, "Even if I could escape, and that is a big if, where would I go? I have no idea where Bali, Remy, Hannah, or the kids are. Do you know what you've done by attacking us?"

"We can fix this."

"How?" she demanded. "I've dealt with people like S.H.I.E.L.D. before. They won't stop until all of us are in cages. So, by all means, say what you have to say. Just don't think it changes anything."

Her eyes didn't meet his again. She looked down at the floor almost absently, one leg extended before her and one hugged to her chest. Her shoulders were slumped, a gesture he had never seen on her before, as though she had finally given up the fight. The change was clear and almost startling compared to how strong-willed she had been before. He felt guilty for being the cause of that change, that drain of energy that was so evident in her.

"My name is Steve Rogers, not Callaghan," he started. "I was born July fourth, 1918. And, no, I'm not a mutant. When America joined the war, I was recruited into Project: Rebirth. My strength, my endurance, it all came from an experimental super serum I was injected with.

"Five years ago, I was frozen in the Arctic. You probably know more about this time period than I do. I never hitchhiked across the states and, yes, I vaguely knew what I was getting into when I came to the House. But I've spent my entire life fighting HYDRA and we had reason to believe that they were interested in you. It was my mission to determine whether or not you and your family were a threat."

"And you decided we were too dangerous to leave unchecked," she muttered venomously.

Steve shook his head, trying to disregard the fact that she still refused to look at him, "No. I realized that all you wanted was to be left alone and I tried to make that happen. I told Fury that he had three days to stop watching you, to let you live in peace, or I was going to tell you everything. It's what I was trying to tell you that night."

"I nearly killed you that night," she said, her tone hollow. "I might have if you had the time to tell me before S.H.I.E.L.D. burnt my house to the ground."

He nodded, "I know. And I was willing to take that risk."

That caught her attention. For the first time since he began explaining, Nikki looked up with surprised eyes. It was the same expression she had gotten when he had told her he would take a bullet for her family.

"Why?"

"Because you deserved to know the truth."

There was a heavy silence between them and she dropped her gaze. Running a hand through her messy brown hair, she smiled wanly.

"I don't even know what to think," she sighed, sounding as though she might cry. "I thought we would be safe here. I thought we could finally be a family, that I could finally pick up the pieces of what was left of my life, and we could be happy. I should have known better."

The sardonic laugh she gave only made him feel worse, but her next words were worse, "You know what's truly sad about this? I always make the same mistake. I always try to trust the same type of person, the same seemingly kind man who happens into my life, and I always end up getting hurt for doing so. I wanted so desperately for you to be different, Steve. Turns out you're just the same as Erik and Charles. The only difference is now…now I have nothing left."

Steve turned away from her, ashamed of how they had ended up in that holding cell, "I'm sorry."

"So am I."

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><p>Director Fury knew, the second the door to his office slammed violently, that he was about to get an earful. He didn't bother to turn around. He had a hunch as to who had come stomping into his office, as there was only one person who would be angry with him, and didn't feel the need to look him in the eye yet. It was only when a voice very different from Steve's did he turn around.<p>

"I hope you're happy. Forty-two agents are on medical leave, one whole section of the Helicarrier is flooded with radiation, and three more agents are suffering from chemical burns because you decided to raid the Alchemist's house. I wish I could say I told you so, but I never expected for it to turn so drastic."

Fury glanced over his shoulder to meet the eyes of Phil Coulson. The senior agent stood before the Director's desk, his arms crossed as he looked unenthused with all that had occurred. His foot tapped, the one tell Fury had learned meant that he was at the end of his patience, and the Director turned around fully to face his friend.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. was made to protect people," Coulson continued. "Since when did we begin burning down houses and breaking families apart – making fugitives out of kids?"

Fury pressed his lips into a thin line as he silently counted to ten before responding, "Your boy didn't give me much of a choice when he decided to offer a dangerous ultimatum."

"Captain Rogers is hardly 'my boy'. And I heard exactly what he was offering us. Regardless of whether or not we could afford to pull out from this mission, you should have resolved it through a less reckless outlet."

"The World Security Council wanted more answers than Steve was providing," Fury explained. "And I think we both know Ms. Eisenhardt wasn't going to come in willingly. Have you looked into the connection between the Eisenhardt in our detainment cell and the one that died in '73?"

Coulson shook his head, exasperated that the older man was changing the subject, "Yes, but there's very little to connect the two. I think Steve was telling the truth about the alternate universe theories. It certainly explains why none of the mutants counterparts show any sign of mutation-caused abilities.

"The Magda Eisenhardt of our world was sent to Auschwitz when she was six. She was saved from the gas chambers by a _Sonderkommando _by the name of Erik Lehnsherr – possibly our counterpart to the Erik which Steve reported about – and passed on to a HYDRA doctor who worked with Mengele. When the Axis powers won the war, she went off the grid. We don't know the particulars of what happened after until she contacted Ms. Carter in 1973 with information on an important development of Soviet HYDRA. She was killed the day she was meant to meet with Ms. Carter."

"And the Eisenhardt we have in our detainment cell?"

Coulson offered a shrug in reply, "Steve was never able to clarify what exactly happened to her in her world. All we know is that she, too, spent time in Auschwitz as a child. How she escaped the gas chambers in her world is still unknown."

Silence descended between them as the last of their conversation fell short. Both knew what the other had to say, and what the other should say, but neither spoke. Coulson's disapproval of Fury's actions was practically tangible in the air, his blue-grey eyes never wavering from the Director's gaze. Their silence was only broken when a sharp buzz echoed through the room. Coulson looked down at his pocket, pulling out his phone to see a message from Skye.

_Bad news. Watch ASAP._

"Great," he muttered sarcastically as he unlocked it.

"More trouble?"

Coulson didn't answer, his eyes fixed on the grainy video that was being taped. It had begun with some teenagers camping in the middle of the woods before the focus suddenly turned on what he guessed had been what Skye had wanted him to see. A sharp curse escaped him as it progressed, his blood running cold at what it meant for both of them. Fury raised his eyebrows at the agent's words.

"Coulson?"

The agent looked up at his superior, handing him the cell phone, "Well, things are either going to get slightly better or much worse where the Alchemist is involved."

Fury's good eye narrowed on the screen, the corner of his mouth twitching as he watched from the beginning. Coulson could see the worry in the Director's expression.

"And there's one more thing," he remarked, suppressing a wince. "Skye says the video's already gone viral."


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**_Hey, everyone! Laptop hunting is taking longer than I expected, but I felt bad for leaving you guys hanging. So I copied the chapter onto my phone's memos (a very long and trying couple of hours thanks to Apple's trigger-happy autocorrect that very much does not like Asgardian or Old Norse names) __and copied it from there to here. I'm really not sure I want to do that again for the next chapter (even though it's already written up, too), but we'll see. I hope you all enjoy!_**

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><p><em>"Ignorance breeds fear. Fear breeds hate. Hate breeds violence."<em>

_–Unknown_

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><p><strong>12 Hours Earlier<strong>

Bali sat staring into the fire he had set up, his foot tapping impatiently on the floor. He knew there was only one thing he could do at the moment, one thing that he _had _to do, but he was putting it off as long as he could. His powers had allowed him to sense exactly where Nikki was. As far as he could tell, she was sitting in a cell within a giant floating fortress, surrounded by agents from the mysterious S.H.I.E.L.D. that had been following them around for too long. He would have contacted her then had the agents not somehow recognized his energy signature. That little detail brought him to an almost startling epiphany: they had encountered his kind before.

His gaze turned to the mutants around him, Remy, Hannah, and the dozen kids who had become his family over the past five years. They were so like him and yet entirely different. Humanity ran thick in their blood, despite their protests that they were more, while he was something else altogether. And yet they accepted him the way no other humans had in his long lifetime. He owed them so much, especially Nikki.

What he had to do almost frightened him. He had seen the news reports three years ago when New York had been attacked, had seen how his brother was among the warriors who fought to protect the city. That meant his brother knew S.H.I.E.L.D. and could potentially help them. But it had been so very long since he had seen his brother in person. They had been boys when they parted, a memory that he could remember with perfect clarity if he wanted. Would his brother even recognize him? After all, Bali had barely recognized him when he saw the news.

A gentle hand on his arm broke him out of his thoughts. His deep silver eyes turned up to see Hannah, her expression worried. The morning after the attack on the House, she had still been out of touch with the world, trapped in her own memories. He had been forced to enter her mind to finally tear her free from the memory of William Stryker and bring her back to the present. She still looked slightly haunted from the experience.

"Are you okay?"

Her voice was quiet, a near whisper that only he could hear. He sighed in resignation as her fingers travelled down so that she could take his hand. She could always see past whatever mask he wore, tearing it as easily as if it was made from tissue paper, and find what he truly felt. It was one of the many reasons he loved her.

"I need to contact my brother," he explained. "But it's…ages since we last saw each other."

"Are you afraid he won't forgive you for not talking to him before?"

He shook his head, "No. He would understand."

She sat down next to him, giving him a wan smile, "I'm not a telepath, Bali. You'll have to explain why you're anxious."

"I don't entirely understand it myself. I suppose…I think, if I speak to him now, it will make the time and distance between us real. I've always been able to convince myself that we were still close, that we would always be brothers regardless of how far away we were. If I see him again, I won't be able to tell myself that anymore."

"Were you close when you were young?"

A laugh escaped him as he thought back to when they were children, "Nigh inseparable. It was painful for us both to part."

"Then why should it be any different now?" she pointed out.

Bali mulled over her words, baffled at the wisdom at a woman who was almost infinitely younger than him. He thought back to the promises he and his brothers had made when hidden in the bushes of their mother's garden, to shared laughs after they would get into trouble, and to their tears as he was taken away. The notion that they may have grown apart was almost ridiculous now. He offered her a grateful smile, squeezing Hannah's fingers gently.

"You're right," he remarked, pressing a kiss against her hand. "How silly of me."

She shrugged, "Even demigods make mistakes."

"I should speak to him now."

She understood his meaning, his need for total concentration, immediately and let go of his hand. A reassuring smile was all she offered him before she stood up and walked away. He knew she wouldn't take his veiled dismissal to heart, as he never meant it in such a way. She knew all too well that he would always need her strength and her encouragement.

Turning away from her, Bali shifted in the rickety bench and closed his eyes. He thought back to Mimir and Hœnir's teachings, as it had been a long time since he had accomplished a feat so extensive, and projected his consciousness past his body and into the world around him. In this ethereal state, he could almost sense the universe moving around him. It was a feeling that had always made him feel closer to his people. But he didn't have time to admire the many complexities of the worlds.

He pushed forward, reaching out to the world he had left behind eons before. It was the same as he last remembered it. Calm waves of a suspended sea surrounded a shining city of silver and gold spires, the stars visible despite the azure sky above, and the sprawling gilded palace at the very center. Asgard.

At the sight of the Bifrost, jagged-edged and only part of it still standing, Bali paused. His heart sank at the sight of the broken bridge, but he reminded himself that there were other ways out of Asgard and continued towards the palace. Guards stood outside the doors, their postures straightening as they sensed his presence. He forced his consciousness into a visible form of his physical appearance and approached them.

"Excuse me," he said amiably, ignoring how they gripped their swords at his words. "I'm looking for Prince Thor. If you could tell me his current whereabouts, I'd greatly appreciate-"

"Name yourself, stranger!" one of the Einherjar shouted, brandishing a spear. "What is your business with the King?"

That caused Bali to pause, "King? I missed Thor's coronation?"

The Einherjar bristled at that.

"How dare you speak of the King with such disrespect?" One spat. "You shall be punished for your insolence, fool."

As the guard rushed towards Bali, his instincts kicked in. He sidestepped the man easily, his hand shooting forward to force the spear upward with two fingers against the blade, and gave a hard kick to the back of his knees. The guard went sprawling to the floor as the others watched in shock. Bali turned to face them calmly, willing the illusion of traditional Asgardian armor around him as he dropped the American accent he had worked so hard to acquire.

"I am Prince Balder of Asgard, third son of Odin and the god of light," he announced, a hard edge entering his voice. "You are to tell me the whereabouts of the King immediately or, so help me Norns, I will have each and every one of you flogged for insubordination. Am I understood?"

The eyes of the Einherjar widened in shock, but, luckily, one was able to gather his wits shortly after. The tan-skinned man gave a sharp bow.

"Apologies, my Prince," he stammered. "We did not recognize you."

The hard mask fell slightly from Bali's face, "All will be forgiven if you take me to my brother."

"Your brother, the King, is in an important meeting in the throne room. Shall I have one of my comrades accompany you?"

He shook his head, an inexplicable weariness in his eyes, "No, thank you. I can find my own way."

He didn't give the Einherjar a second to reply, instead choosing to disappear into the palace and towards the throne room. The entire ordeal made his skin crawl and he suppressed a shudder at his own words. No matter how many years passed, or how necessary it was, he always hated using the fact that he was a prince to get what he wanted. It had always felt shallow to him, like a cheap shot.

There were, much to his relief, no Einherjar before the doors to the throne room. He pushed them open, causing both occupants within to turn sharply to look at him. The first was of little interest to Bali: a lithe, willowy Elf with a bemused expression on his face. But it was the blonde man on the throne that caught the prince's attention.

He was a few visible years older than Bali himself, his features strong and square. Golden blonde hair fell messily around his face and down to his shoulders, matching his full beard, and contrasted starkly with stormy blue eyes. There were smile lines around his mouth and eyes. He was clad in simple silver armor and a scarlet cape, a hammer hanging from his belt. The sight of the man, who was just vaguely reminiscent of the boy Bali had known, caused the younger brother to freeze in surprise. He had never expected seeing his brother in person to be so different from seeing him on the news.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion, my King," he sputtered quickly, offering an awkward bow that looked more like he had lost his balance.

Thor turned to the Elf, "My deepest apologies, Engar, but I must ask you to leave us for a short time."

"It is of no trouble, your majesty," the Elf replied, eyeing Bali curiously. "I trust you will call upon me again to continue our discussion?"

"Of course."

The Elf left without another word, leaving the two brothers in the room. A heavy silence lingered between them as each sized up the other. Swallowing down his fear, Bali took a hesitant step closer, his illusion of armor falling back to his usual vintage band tee and frayed jeans. Thor was the first of the two to speak.

"Balder?"

The elder brother's voice quivered in disbelief, causing Bali to hesitate when he replied, "Thor…I can explain my – oof!"

Bali felt the wind get knocked out of him as his brother barreled into him, crushing him between strong arms and a metal breastplate.

"No need to crush me, brother," he wheezed.

Thor beamed as he pulled away and looked at his younger brother, "Of course not. I was-"

"Happy to see me," the younger brother finished, cutting him off. "I know. I wish I could catch up with you but, if you remember, I was never supposed to contact you unless it was an emergency. And I need your help as soon as you can come."

The smile fell from Thor's face as the prince spoke, his hand falling to the handle of Mjolnir, "An emergency? What is the matter? Where are you?"

"I'm fine, Thor, I'm on Earth. It's a friend of mine that needs help, and I can't do anything personally. I'm asking this as a favor."

"You know you may ask anything of me."

Bali nodded, taking a deep breath before explaining, "Five years ago, I sought refuge with a family of humans. They know what I am and what I can do – they accepted me in a way no others had before. But they are in danger. They are more evolved than most humans, gifted with individual powers that are derived from genetic mutations. These powers have brought them under the scrutiny of an organization."

"S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Yes. A few days ago, they attacked our home and sent us underground. But one of us was captured – a woman named Nikki who brought us together in the first place. She's locked up in a holding cell on one of their vessels and I need someone who's familiar with S.H.I.E.L.D. to talk to them."

Thor nodded as he thought over his brother's words, "You want me to persuade them to let her free."

"She's an innocent," Bali continued, his worry clear in his silver eyes. "Nikki has done nothing but look after our entire family. And she's been through enough in her life, she doesn't deserve to suffer any more."

"This woman…Nikki, she is in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s custody?"

Bali nodded, "Her name is Nikki Whitfield. They might have her filed under Magda Eisenhardt."

"I will speak to them immediately," Thor said emphatically.

"I can show you a few areas in Asgard where the branches of the Yggdrasil are weak enough to slip through," the young prince suggested. "Seeing as the Bifrost is gone. How did that happen, by the way? I didn't even know you could break such a powerful object of magic."

Thor smiled sheepishly, "Yes, it is a long story. One which I will tell you once I find you on Midgard. But I can obtain a much quicker method of arrival."

Bali frowned, "A quicker way than the Yggdrasil branches with the Bifrost broken? How is that even-?"

His voice cut off as Bali felt something trying to tug his mind back to Earth. The projection he had created shivered, fading in and out erratically. Everything seemed to wash together, color and sense mixing into an incomprehensible state of chaos, as his mind fell into limbo between Asgard and Earth. When he finally stabilized himself, he felt his heart skip a beat in fear.

"Balder?" Thor's voice echoed through his head as though speaking through an old radio.

"Something's wrong," Bali managed to get out. "I can't keep the connection. I have to go. Get Nikki out, Thor. You have to-"

His words broke off in a scream as something finally tore him back to Earth entirely. He came to as his body slipped off the bench he had been sitting on, a familiar grip clamped down hard on his shoulder. Magenta sparks caught his attention before he looked up to meet Remy's hazel eyes. A thunderous noise echoed throughout the building. Bullets, Bali realized in shock, he was hearing bullets ricocheting off the metal walls of their shelter.

"Come on, man, you have to come back to us," the mutant snapped, desperation clear in his voice. "We're all going to die if you don't wake up!"

Agent Grant Ward pulled on the black protective mask with the smallest sigh of irritation he could manage. It wasn't the mission he was about to embark on, as it was a standard bag and tag of powered peoples, but the circumstances that surrounded it which had him on edge. If Pierce kept insisting on sending him to dangerous missions when he was still on duty as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, Coulson and the team were going to eventually figure it out.

A twig snapped to his left, his eyes turning instinctively towards the direction of the noise. His gaze fell on a girl no older than fifteen with messy brown curls and green-grey eyes that looked wiser than her years. Her jaw was clenched as if in anger, her hands balled into fists. Ward instantly recognized her as one of the mutant kids from the House. Behind him, a few other agents realized what he was staring at and drew their guns.

"Wait!" he shouted, but his words were lost in the gunfire.

A red translucent shield seemed to rise up around the girl, causing the bullets to disintegrate on impact. Her lips curled into an angry snarl and Ward was struck by how much the expression made her look like the Alchemist.

"Why can't you leave us alone?" she shrieked, throwing her hands out and forcing the field of scarlet energy to fly towards them.

The impact of the shield was like that of a brick wall, causing several of the agents to fly backwards. Ward rolled into a crouch, pulling his own gun from its holster, and rushed towards the girl. A blur rushed towards him quicker than his eye could follow and he found himself on the ground once more. A silver-haired boy kneeled over him, tossing the agent's pistol away before pulling back to punch him across the cheek.

"Not my sister, you son of a bitch," the boy snarled, the speed of his hits causing them to land with sharp _crack_s.

The boy stopped with a cry of pain, blood trickling down from where a bullet grazed his arm. His distraction allowed Ward to push him off and go for the I.C.E.R. at his belt. Though each of the HYDRA agents was outfitted with handguns, their objective was to capture as many of the mutants as possible. Killing was a last resort option.

As he tackled the boy, the world seemed to slow around him. A sharp kick landed against his shin, but he pressed the gun against the boy's chest without hesitation, pulling the trigger a second later. Blue lines flared up against the boy's skin as he fell still and limp against the dirt. Ward stood up shakily, pressing his hand against his earpiece for the intercom.

"Secure these two and converge on the mutants," he shouted. "They know we're here."

Without waiting for a reply, he rushed forwards through the woods and towards the abandoned warehouse the rest of the mutants were hiding in. He was vaguely aware of boots crunching through the dead leaves and twigs shortly behind him. But he was mostly oblivious to the sounds. It was times like this, when he could focus on a single objective without distraction, that the world seemed to fall away for Grant Ward. His training kicked in like autopilot on a plane, allowing him to watch his surroundings as his body remembered for him.

The mutants put up a fight unlike any he had been in before. He mentally ran over what their catalogued powers were as they rushed through his field of vision, often wielding their mutations against his fellow agents. Teleportation, psionic body armor, instinctive camouflage, intangibility, they all could have given each of the mutants an edge. But they were unused to using their abilities in a fight. Their inexperience was clear in how they utilized their gifts against the agents flooding in.

A call for backup caught his attention, causing Ward to look towards the five agents trying to take down the mutant known only as Bali. He was the only mutant they hadn't been able to label as far as concrete definitions of powers. Making a spur of the moment choice, the agent rushed to the aid of his associates. Regardless of whether or not this op would blow his cover, if they lost a single mutant that night, he wouldn't make it long enough to see Skye again.

And that was his true directive.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**_Hello, lovelies!_**

**_I'm really sorry about the long wait between chapters recently. Something came up and I had to postpone buying a new laptop. However, I do have the next six chapters written up in my various notebooks, so I'll post two chapters the day I get my virus-free laptop. As I typed this on my phone memos, and autocorrect hates me, please let me know if there are any problems. Thanks to all of you for sticking around!_**

**_Song of the Chapter: Up in the Air by Thirty Seconds to Mars_**

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><p><em>"<em>_Hope is the only thing stronger than fear."_

_–__Suzanne Collins_

Steve stared at the video of the mutants trying to escape the HYDRA agents, panic making his heart race. He looked over the monitor to where Coulson was standing. The senior agent looked as though he hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in weeks.

"We have to tell her," the soldier pointed out. "She'll take it better if we don't hide this from her. It's not going to go over well, though. You might end up with a hole in the Helicarrier if we keep trying to contain her now."

"Which is exactly why we aren't going to contain her anymore," Coulson replied.

Steve raised his eyebrows, "What are you suggesting?"

"Director Fury and I have decided it's time to talk to Miss Eisenhardt about the Avengers Initiative."

"You want Nikki to join the Avengers?"

Coulson shrugged and offered a wan smile, "We came to the conclusion that it was in all of our best interests if she was an Avenger. I'd like you to come with me when I make the offer."

"I don't see why. She's not going to take it any better if I'm there," he remarked. "She still hasn't forgiven me for lying to her."

"But she does respond to you when you talk to her," Coulson pointed out. "She silently glares at the other agents. That has to count for something."

The agent didn't give Steve a minute to respond before he began to walk out of the room. He decided to follow, as the alternative was worse and he wanted to be there for Nikki when she was told the news. It seemed to him that he owed her that much. It took less than five minutes to make it to Nikki's holding cell and enter in the key code to open the door. Coulson was the first to walk through the door, seemingly not caring about what she might do, but stopped when he caught sight of her.

Nikki was sitting against the wall furthest from the door, a blank expression on herself. She had a black sphere of _something_ in her hands and, from time to time, she would toss it against the opposite wall where it would bounce back with a soft _thunk_. Both Coulson and Steve watched the repetitive action for a few seconds before speaking.

"Miss Eisenhardt," Coulson said carefully, voice quietly curious. "What is that?"

She shrugged, tossing the sphere once more, "A rubber ball. You didn't exactly give me anything to occupy myself with."

"Where did you get it?"

"Pulled it from the air and the walls," she answered. "Getting the carbon and hydrogen was simple. You've got a higher percentage of carbon in your walls than most steel, by the way. The tricky bit is getting the right bonds between the atoms."

Steve blinked in surprise, "You pulled atoms out of the walls and air and put them together to make rubber?"

The look she gave them both was one of incredulity, "You really haven't figured it out, have you? My mutation."

At the confused expression on both men's faces, Nikki gave a sigh and splayed her fingers. The rubber ball disintegrated at the motion until there was no trace left of it. She suddenly reached up, as if plucking something from the atmosphere, and then proceeded to place her hand flat against the wall beside her. The surface of the wall where she touched it suddenly bloomed with oranges and browns, parts of it becoming flaky and brittle. Before it could spread more than a foot away from her fingers, and before Coulson could move forward in the intention of stopping her, Nikki pulled away from the wall.

"An old friend of mine called it physikinesis," she explained. "The ability to manipulate matter on a subatomic level. But it's sketchy. The nature in which my mutation manifested causes my control to be unstable at times, so I don't use it often."

"Except when you're acting as a cross-country vigilante," Coulson pointed out good-naturedly.

"What is it that you want?" she asked suddenly. "The only reason anyone ever comes in here is to get answers. Ask your questions so I can studiously ignore you and you can get on with your lives."

Coulson frowned suddenly, "Actually, we have news for you."

"News?"

"Something happened," Steve explained. "It's about your family."

She was suddenly on her feet, an unreadable sort of panic in her eyes, "What about my family?"

"What do you know about HYDRA?" Coulson asked.

"It's some faceless organization that started off as a branch of the Nazis. They didn't exist in my world, so I don't know much more than that," she answered. "What does that have to do with my family?"

Coulson didn't flinch as he spoke, keeping eye contact even as Steve looked away, but he still managed to look guilty, "I'm sorry to tell you, but S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't the only organization interested in your kind. HYDRA managed to track your family to the safe house they were hiding in and captured them."

She was on her feet in seconds, her fists clenched tightly, and the very air around them seemed to grow heavier, "What?!"

"We've yet to locate them," he continued.

"We _will_ find them, Nikki," Steve said, looking up at her at last.

"Captured – find them? God, damn it!" she shouted, flames bursting to life around her feet. "After everything I've done – after all I sacrificed to keep those two safe…This is all your fault!"

The senior agent blinked in surprise, "Those two?"

It was as though she hadn't heard Coulson at all. There was a panic in her brown eyes, her steps rapid and anxious as she paced back and forth.

"Now they're all in danger and it's your fault. And mine, for trusting a stranger – a _gadje_!"

"Miss Eisenhardt, I need you to listen to me," Coulson said, his voice calm and reassuring. "Steve is right, we will find your family. There's a team we have of very special people, they deal with large-scale threats such as HYDRA, and they're willing to work with you. But doing so requires joining them."

She stopped short, looking at him with guarded eyes, "The Avengers. That group of so-called superheroes? You should know, I don't believe in heroes."

"Well, I do," Coulson countered. "And from what I've seen of you, Miss Eisenhardt, you more than qualify."

"Say I do join these Avengers. How much say will S.H.I.E.L.D. have over my family and I? How do I know I can trust you or the Avengers?"

Coulson shrugged, "A leap of faith? Shouldn't be too hard, seeing as you've been living with one for the past five months."

She turned to Steve in shock, "You're an Avenger?"

He shrugged sheepishly, "They call me Captain America."

"The man with the shield?" she asked. "The man I saved from those aliens how long ago? Oh, that's rich."

"What do you say?" Coulson asked, holding out his hand.

"None of my family will be harmed at your hands?"

He shook his head, "Not one."

"I suppose we have a deal," she sighed, taking his hand. "But, if a single one of them ends up hurt because of this deal, I will make sure S.H.I.E.L.D. is nothing more than a myth by the year's end."

"I would expect nothing less," Coulson admitted. "Now, we will need to discover the extent of your abilities – for documentation reasons only. Just a few run-of-the-mill exercises will be required."

There was an edge of fear in her eyes, "I don't do well with tests."

"Don't worry. They're all unobtrusive."

"It won't be like Auschwitz," Steve assured her, his mind going back to the desolate cemetery the camp had been. "No one's going to hurt you here."

"What would you know of that pain?" she snapped at him. "You were an American soldier, a witness to only the end of the brutality. You soldiers grieved over the dead in their graves. Fools, all of you, for not realizing that those were the lucky ones. I was a Rom and a mutant. It was the only reason I survived in the camps, but believe me when I say that there were days that I wish I had been sent to the ovens. So no, no one will hurt me here the way the Nazis did then, but that is solely because they would not live long enough to do so."

Both Steve and Coulson were taken aback by the bitterness and rage behind her words. But there was grief in her eyes, showing a softer edge to her anger at the Nazis and S.H.I.E.L.D. alike. Steve wondered how different her treatment had been compared to the other prisoners, and how being a mutant factored into it, but wouldn't dare ask. It was clear that he had already caused her more pain than he had ever intended to.

He had seen a few of the larger death camps, as HYDRA had set up shop in those, and it was not something he would ever forget. Hundreds of emaciated bodies piled into deep holes in the ground, walking corpses of those still alive, and piles of belongings that had been torn from the prisoners were common sights. But he had not seen the few who had been subject to experimentation at the hands of the Nazis. What horrors had she seen?

Before he could say anything in response to her, the whole Helicarrier shook and groaned. All three fell to the floor at the shuddering of the metal around them. The second the place became still once more, Steve spared a glance towards Nikki to make sure she was alright and, after he was certain she was fine, then to Coulson. The agent had leapt back to his feet and had his gun in his hand as he trained it on the doorway. Nothing came through.

"What was that?" Steve asked, thinking out loud rather than actually hoping for an answer.

"I have no idea," Coulson replied, glancing over his shoulder at Nikki. "Come with us. We may need your help for this."

Nikki said nothing, giving a sharp nod in understanding before following the two men out the door. The hallways had erupted into chaos, agents rushing through with weapons drawn, and Nikki had to pull Steve back before he got trampled. Their gazes met for the first true time since they last spoke and Steve wondered if the guarded expression on her face was because of him or because they had somehow found themselves in a war zone. He felt as though he should apologize to her again for all that had happened, but it was true what she had told him. His words would never make up for what he did. He needed to act in order to make things better, to make it up to her.

They kept pace with each other as they raced after Coulson, reminding Steve of the night she took him out on one of her vigilante stints. The patched up wound in her shoulder didn't even seem to bother her as she ran. In the corner of his mind, Steve was aware of Coulson speaking rapidly into his earpiece.

"On the roof?" he asked, sounded exasperated. "Does anyone have a visual?"

Steve strained to hear the rest of Coulson's side of the conversation over the noise and chaos around them, shock rippling through him as he listened.

"How can its energy signal match the Tesseract if it's too small? There is nothing else in the universe like it, Freyja told us that much."

If the Tesseract was involved, in Steve's personal opinion, something was going to go very wrong. What with the Red Skull, Loki's power play across the Earth, and the death-obsessed Titan that had followed Freyja, he was almost expecting a portal to some godforsaken edge of the universe to have opened up and swallowed half the Helicarrier. It would have been nothing more than the final straw of a terrible three days.

All three came to a stop as they entered the bridge of the Helicarrier. A large hole had been blown through the ceiling, wires and scraps of metal hanging from the ragged edges. Just beneath it, dressed entirely in his cape and armor, stood the god of thunder himself. He held Mjolnir in his hand, pointing it almost threateningly at one of the agents.

"-is my brother? I demand to know!"

A young agent took a hesitant step forward, his hand outstretched, "Mr. Odinson, sir. Please-"

"You fail to understand. If anything is to happen to my brother, the safety of the Realms will be at stake?"

"Threats, Thor?" Coulson asked, sounding disappointed. "I thought we were past that."

Thor looked up, but his expression was still pinched as though the god was worried, "Son of Coul, you misunderstand. It is no threat I speak of, but a prophecy."

"Prophecy?"

The blonde god nodded, "Ragnarök, the end of the Realms, will be marked by the death of my brother."

"I've been trying to tell him that Loki isn't here, sir," the agent told Coulson.

"It is not Loki, but-"

"Bali," Nikki breathed, pushing past Coulson and Steve. "What happened? Is he alright?"

Thor blinked at Nikki, a perplexed expression on his face, before he took a step forward, "How do you know what we called him as children?"

She shrugged, "He told me it was his nickname. But you didn't answer my question. Is he safe?"

"Lady Nikki Whitfield, I take it," he asked, waiting for her to nod before continuing. "He spoke of you, asking me to bargain with S.H.I.E.L.D. for your freedom, but he was interrupted. I have not been able to contact him since."

Nikki looked as though her hope had died once more, "I thought maybe…"

Steve and Coulson looked between the thunder god and the mutant, trying to catch up with the conversation.

"Bali wasn't a mutant from your world?" Steve asked, his words almost drowned out by Coulson saying, "You have friends in very high places, Ms. Eisenhardt."

She shook her head at them, "We weren't friends to begin with. I don't tend to take in stray wanderers with open arms."

"You knew Bali was a Norse god?" Steve asked.

"Of course," she replied. "You're the first person I let into my house without knowing exactly what I was dealing with. I took a chance with you, and look how that turned out."

"You told me he was a mutant. You lied to me?"

He regretted the words the second they came out of his mouth, the fact that they were a mistake becoming immediately evident even before Nikki responded. Coulson, apparently, had come to the same conclusion as he took a few steps back from the mutant. The look that crossed her face could have only been described as indignant. She looked at Steve, russet eyes appearing even darker with her anger.

"Don't even go there, Rogers," she said, voice dangerously low.

As if to emphasize her point, the temperature of the whole room seemed to rise. She turned away from him before he could stutter out an apology and towards Thor. The thunder god seemed taken aback by the exchange, but seemed relieved to see that her ire was not directed at him.

"I assume you're going to want to talk to me about Bali – Balder," she said, shaking her head as she corrected herself. "Sorry. Old habits die hard."

"Call him what you wish," Thor replied, walking with her as they left the room.

"So you're Bali's eldest brother?" Steve heard her say just as they were reaching the door. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I wasn't expecting you to be so-"

"Princely?"

"Broad."

Steve stifled a laugh, though Thor's could be heard even through the closed door, as he thought of Bali's fairly slim build. He shared the same square face and beaming smile as his brother but he certainly wasn't as physically intimidating. As he watched them go, Steve noticed Coulson approaching him once more.

"Friends with the brother of Asgard's king," Coulson muttered. "If we _had _captured them all that night, this would have been a diplomatic nightmare."

"I'm not sure it still isn't," Steve pointed out.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

_**Hey, everyone! I don't yet have a new laptop but I managed to pull all the adware off of my current one, so my internet is actually usable now, though still not as frequently as I used to. I'm not going to lie, this one's mostly a filler chapter with some important information thrown in. Most of you have figured out a good portion of Nikki's story, but the rest of it will be revealed in the next three chapters when we get some unexpected guests. I'm actually only a few chapters away from finishing this story (don't worry, I still have around four written chapters that aren't published yet). Anyway, I'm going to stop rambling. Enjoy the story!**_

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><p>Steve hovered outside the door of Nikki's impromptu quarters later in the afternoon, afraid to knock and yet anxious to see her again at the same time. He knew all too well that, despite being on speaking terms, they were not friends in her eyes anymore. All the effort he had put into their friendship before had been thrown out the window and he had to win her trust back again. The only problem, he thought, was that he wasn't entirely sure if such a feat was possible.<p>

With a resigned sigh, he rapped his knuckles softly against the metal door. There was a reluctant 'come in' and, deciding that the worst she could do was set him ablaze, he stepped inside. Nikki was sitting on the mattress in the far corner of the room, her legs curled up beneath her as she sketched on the back of an official hard copy of a S.H.I.E.L.D. file. She was dressed in the standard uniform for agents, which looked strange compared to her usual worn jeans and faded shirts.

She barely looked up as she said, "What can I help you with, Captain?"

"Don't," he told her.

That seemed to get her attention, as she put her pencil down and met his eyes when he said it, "Don't what?"

"Please don't call me that," he said. "Ever since I woke up, I've been Captain America. It was only with you that I could just be Steve again. I was able to be myself with you. I don't want to lose that."

"Frankly, Rogers, I don't give much of a damn what you want."

The words weren't said with much spite and she looked back down halfway through the sentence. But he could tell she was still upset with him for everything. He couldn't entirely blame her, if he was honest with himself. S.H.I.E.L.D. and, by extension, Steve had torn her family apart, burnt down their home, and led HYDRA right to them. She had every right to be angry. At the same time, she almost seemed like she'd decided he wasn't worth her time.

"I know I can't apologize enough for what I did," he started, watching as she returned to sketching. "And the only way I can make up for it is by helping you track down HYDRA, but I _do_ want to help, Nikki. I want to fix things for you, and to do that I need you to forgive me. To some extent."

"Do you know what happened the last time someone asked me to trust their intentions after one betrayal?" she asked, never once looking up from the manila file.

He shook his head, "You never told me that story."

"I believed in him," she answered, her voice strained as though it took effort to get the words out. "And my daughter ended up dying because of my blind faith."

Steve felt his mouth go dry, the words dying on the tip of his tongue when he heard her voice crack on the last word. It seemed that he didn't need to speak, however, as she continued without him.

"I came here to protect them, to make sure they never ended up like Anya. Everything I did, and I ended up failing anyway," she breathed, closing her eyes to keep from crying.

There wasn't much he was certain about where Nikki was involved, but the one thing Steve did know was that she was very close to breaking. He had no idea how much she had been through, nor was he sure if he even wanted to know, and now it was taking its toll. The armor she used was cracking in places. Taking a chance, he slid onto the mattress next to her and placed his hand over hers. The gesture caused her to look up at him in surprise, her dark eyes wide as she stared, but she didn't pull away from him.

His eyes wandered down towards the manila file, focusing on her sketch. Though it wasn't entirely finished, lacking the shading and a few small detailing lines, he immediately recognized Pietro and Wanda. He smiled at the drawing of the silver-haired boy with his arm draped over his sister's shoulder as she rolled her eyes at him. There was an almost unbelievable realism to the piece, and the extra effort she was putting into these was visible.

"The twins?" he muttered, pulling his hand from hers so he could turn the folder his direction.

"Yeah," she said, a smile tugging at her lips.

"The detail on this is extraordinary."

She shrugged, "I've known Wanda and Pietro the longest, practically watched them grow up. I could draw them with my eyes closed if I wanted."

There was a faraway edge to her voice as she spoke, as though she was thinking about them when they had been little. But there was also something almost like grief tinging the words and Steve wondered, not for the first time, if he was missing a piece of the puzzle. Before he could comment on it, she cleared her throat and met his eyes once more.

"I know you didn't come in here to check up on me," she told him.

"Coulson wants to run a few diagnostic tests concerning your mutation," Steve answered. "But that can wait, if you want."

She shook her head, putting the pencil and file off to the side, "No, it can't. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can put more effort into finding HYDRA. Besides, I've got nothing better to do."

Steve watched with an almost regretful pang as she slipped off the mattress. He rather hoped they could stay in that room, that they could pretend that the world only stretched as far as the walls around them and that they had nothing to worry about. But that hope, he realized, was rather selfish of him. So he stood up next to her and they walked out the door without another word.

The walk to the training facilities was silent, and Steve got the distinct feeling that the fact of his betrayal was still hanging over their heads. Regardless of the fact that he was the only agent she would talk to, with the exception of Coulson who had somehow managed to get on her good side, there was still a sort of tension between them that made him long for his time in the House. He stifled a sigh of relief as they finally reached the training room Coulson had reserved for them.

"Miss Eisenhardt," he greeted, smiling as they walked in.

"Agent," she said in return, taking his hand. "And no one's called me by that name in a long time. Just call me Nikki."

He nodded in understanding, his eyes turning back to the tablet in his hands as he flicked through the files, "We're going to put off the physical exam for a while, as I'd rather have my team work with you for the biological half of our files. They'll be much more respectful, in my opinion, treat you more like a person and less like a lab experiment. Is that acceptable for you?"

Nikki gave a nod, "Sounds fine to me."

"I'm going to focus on the questions pertaining to your mutation and your situation. After that, we'll run through a series of practical tests on your capabilities and limitations. Just let me know if you find one of the questions too intrusive."

"Alright."

Steve took a seat at one of the benches on the side of the room, watching as Coulson motioned for her to sit down. He listened for the first few minutes. He already knew what the questions would be, as he had read her files to see what they had on her already and what they planned to find out, but was equally interested in what Nikki had to say.

"It almost doesn't seem like we've got the right person."

Natasha's voice was soft as she sat down next to him so that only he could hear her. Her eyes were trained on Nikki and Coulson, with a look he knew all too well, as she sized up the woman.

"The mysterious Alchemist?" she clarified, finally looking at Steve.

"That's her," he nodded. "I didn't know you were staying here."

"Fury assigned me here for the time being. I'm supposed to assess her physical abilities, excluding her mutation, and design a training regimen," she told him. "He's got Clint running aerial searches for the rest of the mutants. And Thor's little brother. Thor was adamant on that, said the security of the Nine Realms depended on it."

"How'd he even get here?"

"Thor or Balder?"

Steve scoffed, "Both. Though S.H.I.E.L.D. has been worried since Thor arrived. Apparently, the energy markers surrounding his appearance were typical to the Tesseract, but they were significantly smaller in scale."

"You're going to love this. Freyja split the energy of the Tesseract into several smaller units and gave them to a few people she trusts. Thor said she told him that doing that would make the Tesseract much less dangerous if they fall into the wrong hands, as they only open a temporary portal large enough for one person to walk through. Supposedly, Thanos had found a way to attack Asgard and nearly destroyed it with the Tesseract. That's why she hasn't been in contact with us for the past year."

He shook his head in disbelief, "She's alright now, right?"

"Mostly. She can't shapeshift anymore, her brother's dead, and it turns out there are a few couple hundred thousand Vanir alive who were hiding out on Vanaheim. She and Loki have gone there to head the reconstruction of the Realm."

"So she and Loki have worked things out?"

"Mostly. Better the devil you know, though," Natasha said with a shrug. "What about us?"

"Us?" Steve echoed, raising an eyebrow at her.

"I didn't want to have to pull the trigger."

He shrugged at her, "Don't worry about it. It's done now."

A silence fell between them, one that was familiar, but not quite comfortable. His attention moved to Nikki in the quiet and he watched as she offered Coulson a wan smile in response to his shocked expression. She spoke with the agent so easily, their conversation not weighed down by a past of lies and lost trust. It almost made Steve feel envious.

"I'm sure you two will be fine, too."

"Hmm?"

Natasha gave him a knowing smile, "You know what I'm talking about. All that effort I put into trying to get you a date, and to think all I had to do was wait."

"It's not like that with Nikki."

"But it could be."

Steve was silent again, watching as Nikki and Coulson stood up. They were still talking, most likely about her abilities, and she motioned animatedly when she spoke. It had been something she did when she was invested in a conversation's subject. If she didn't have anything to fiddle with, she would gesture wildly along with her words. He smiled as he thought of their conversations, of when he first noticed the quirk, and smiled.

Natasha was right, he supposed. He could, at the very least, try to make things better between them. It seemed that she wanted him to keep his distance but he could try. In the months he had been with her, he had felt as though he had found his place in the modern world. She reminded him a bit of his past, though he did admire how resilient and outspoken she could be, traits that were somewhat uncommon in his time.

"Nikki doesn't need me," he remarked, thinking out loud. "She doesn't need any man, for protection or otherwise."

The smile Natasha gave him was one of amusement, "I never said that. But I've seen the way you look at her, heard the way you talk about her, and I think there's something worth exploring there."

Steve thought about replying, saying something along the lines of how he didn't think Nikki felt the same, when the sight before him made him forget his words. Nikki had her hand outstretched towards the bench she and Coulson had been sitting on before. Her jaw was clenched as if in pain, her eyes trained on the bench like a hawk eyeing a mouse. The air in the room seemed to raise a few degrees, the very pressure in the air seeming to rise, and suddenly the bench was disintegrating into nothing.

"Shit."

"Language," Steve chided automatically, wincing when Natasha shot him a disbelieving expression. "Sorry. Habit from the House."

Before the bench could finish disintegrating, Nikki gave a sharp groan, doubling over in pain as she dropped her hand. The remaining half of the bench crashed to the floor with a loud _clang_. Steve leapt to his feet as violent shudders wracked her body, her hand covering her mouth as she coughed. He was vaguely aware of Natasha running to catch up with him. Coulson, who was seemingly just as worried, reached out hesitantly to put a hand on her shoulder.

She waved the two away weakly with her free hand, straightening back up as she did. Steve gasped as she dropped her hand and opened her eyes again. Blood was dripping from her palm, it stained her lips scarlet, and her eyes were visibly bloodshot. A shiver seemed to run down her spine and, for the first time, Steve thought she actually looked like she might faint.

"Are you alright?" Coulson asked, collecting himself before Steve could.

She nodded wearily, "Just pushed myself too far."

"What happened?" Steve asked.

She shrugged, "I don't know, exactly. It's almost like my body rejects my mutation if I try something too difficult. Charles used to think it was because its manifestation was forced onto me too early in my life."

"Do you need any medical attention…?"

Coulson sounded as unsure as Steve felt and it was clear that none of them had been prepared to deal with such a situation.

Nikki shook her head, "I'll be fine. I'm going to go out on a limb and say your next question is how my powers were first triggered."

"If you're comfortable with telling us," Coulson assured her. "If it's too much for you to talk about Auschwitz, then we don't have to know the exact circumstances."

She shot them a surprised, if a little suspicious, look, "How do you know I was in Auschwitz when I first developed my mutation?"

"You told Steve that you were seven," Natasha explained. "If you were born in 1938, you would have still been in the camps at that age."

"Of course," she muttered, sending Steve a pointed glare. "Might as well tell you. There was a doctor in my world, a man who made Mengele look tame. He was combing through us for mutants and learned that _Dadro_ – my father – had shown signs of genetic mutation. My sister and I were pulled from the crowds going to the showers and experimented on.

"She died quickly, pushed past what any person should go through, and so he went a little easier on me. The trials became shorter and more frequent. Until my mutation kicked in and I accidentally killed three people, and collapsed the building we were in. Then all Shaw was interested in was my limitations."

"Shaw?"

She nodded, "Sebastian Shaw. He's been dead since '62, thanks to Erik."

"This Erik," Coulson started, not bothering to ask who Erik was for fear of upsetting her. "He went after Shaw because of what he did to you?"

"To us," she corrected, a sharp tone in her voice as though she was angry at something. "Erik was the only other patient of Shaw's. He went after Shaw to protect us. We were afraid he would come after us again, and I had Anya by then, so I was terrified of the idea that he might come back. I guess it didn't make a difference in the end – I lost her anyway…"

Feeling a pang of sadness for her, Steve reached out to take Nikki's hand. She pulled back at the touch and, though she didn't say a word, it was clear that she didn't want his comfort. It seemed that something had come between them in the few hours that had passed since he did the same thing in her room. The thought sent a ripple of remorse through him, and he dropped his hand uselessly back at his side.

Coulson cleared his throat, breaking through the awkward silence, "Well, that should be enough for today. We should head over to 'R & D'. They're working on developing a sturdier uniform for you than the sweatshirt you usually wear."

"You're giving me a costume?" she asked incredulously, following him out.

"Uniform," he corrected. "And if you're going to be an Avenger, you're going to need one."

As they walked out of his line of sight, Steve turned to Natasha, "Still sure about things working out?"

"Give it time," she suggested with a shrug. "Like Freyja told you. Seems like she _could_ figure out which future would happen."

Steve frowned at that. After all, Natasha was right. Maybe all they needed was a little time and, somehow, things would turn out right in the end.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

_Early update because I'm excited about this part. Two certain someones are coming to the story and we're going to have a few more surprises. So here you guys are. I hope you enjoy!_

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><p><em>"A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it."<em>

_–Jean de la Fontaine_

Steve leaned against the far wall of the research and development department aboard the Helicarrier, watching as some of the scientists spoke with Nikki. Coulson stood next to him, entering the last of the information into Nikki's files. Peering over the agent's shoulder, which wasn't all that difficult to do given the height difference between them, Steve skimmed over what was being typed.

"Dmitri was the man who raised her?" he asked, looking up from the tablet at Coulson.

The agent nodded, "He was the Soviet soldier who found both her and Erik during the liberation of Auschwitz. Though she loves him, it seems to upset her that she remembers him more than her own father."

"She told you that."

"Some things you can just tell," Coulson said. "I could hear it in her voice."

This was something Steve had heard before from some of the lower-level agents. Not the information about Nikki, but Coulson's ability to get a read on people. The most infamous story, though no one was sure how much truth there was to it, was that he had completely figured out Natasha when she was first recruited. Steve guessed it was only half true.

"You could tell that much from her voice alone?"

Coulson gave him a thoughtful look, "I could tell a lot more from the way she'd look away when talking about certain things. Why?"

"I've been trying to figure her out since Natasha and Clint dropped me off in Montana," Steve told him. "I guess I'm not that good at reading people."

"To be fair, Captain, she's very withdrawn. She doesn't trust anyone completely, and with good reason, given that her family was slaughtered when she was six. And then there's her daughter's death. She didn't want to give all the details, but I get the feeling that it resulted from her being lied to."

"Did she say how Anya died?"

"All she would say was that there was a fire," Coulson said with a sigh. "She couldn't do anything to stop it, which is why she's made a habit of saving civilians for the past year. If I had to guess, I'd say she's trying to make up for it, but the number of people she saves doesn't change anything in the end. That's why she keeps going."

"I guess that explains the kids," Steve muttered.

Coulson shook his head, "Actually, that's more likely just compassion and empathy. She grew up different from the rest of humanity and without a family. The kids you told us about, they mirror those aspects of her life, and I don't think she could turn them away."

Steve looked up, watching as Nikki looked over a ream of glossy black fabric as the scientists spoke with her. He couldn't hear them from across the room, though they were likely discussing fabric properties and her abilities, but it didn't much make a difference. He was more focused on what Coulson had said. Her compassion had been evident to him early on, through watching her with the kids as she had still been distant towards him for the first few months. But it was obvious that she loved those kids as though they were her own.

What had always struck him more than that, or even the fact that she felt the need to save everyone just because she couldn't do the same for her daughter, was her frightening temper. Though she could be quick to anger when it came to certain topics, it was obvious that rage wasn't second nature to her. Her anger had always seemed to be more of a reaction she had picked up from somewhere rather than an automatic response. He had to admit, however, that much of her ire was well-earned, as it was usually Bali or Remy who had instigated it through one way or another.

As he thought of what Coulson had said about her trust. She doesn't trust easily – not after Erik. Hadn't that been what Hannah had told him so long ago? He wondered if Erik, who he guessed had been the person closest to Nikki, had anything to do with Anya's death. It seemed that the man was at the root of many of Nikki's troubles.

"She does care about you, though."

Steve's attention snapped back to Coulson, his confusion clear on his face, "What makes you say that?"

"She smiles when she talks about your stay in her home," the agent remarked. "She got sidetracked at one point and started talking about what you did for the kids on her birthday. It seems that you've become part of her family."

He opened his mouth, planning on saying how he sort of thought the same, when the electricity suddenly shut off and plunged them into darkness. Everyone went silent as the emergency lights flickered to life, painting everything in a red hue. Coulson gave a longsuffering sigh as he got to his feet.

"What is it this time?" the agent snapped, hand going to his earpiece.

Steve was silent as he watched Nikki look around the room. There was a perplexed expression on her face, as though she was trying to figure something out. A look of recognition sparked in her eyes, a smile crossing her lips, and she was out the door before any of the others could say a thing.

"Nikki?" Steve shouted, chasing after her.

He was vaguely aware of Coulson reaching out to stop him, but the agent wasn't fast enough. There were other agents filling the hallways, looking confused and prepared for the worst as they looked around, but they quickly leapt out of the way as Nikki and Steve raced through the cramped space. It took no more than a minute for him to catch up with her entirely.

"You know what it is," he guessed, slowing himself down to keep pace with her.

She nodded, "Dmitri. His power tends to short out most electrical units within a mile radius."

"The man who brought you here. How did he find you here?"

"I don't know, but he could help us find where HYDRA's keeping my family."

There was an almost giddy smile on her face and the despairing glint in her eyes was gone. She sounded almost hopeful, Steve thought. The thought of this, that he could finally help fix the mess he had created, made him smile in return.

"How do you know where he is?"

"He'll be on the roof of this thing," she answered. "His powers tend to work best in open areas."

Steve grimaced, "We're more than thirty thousand feet up. If he's out there, he's going to have a hard time breathing."

A high-pitched screech echoed through the hallway, coming from their right, and both stopped short at the sound. The sound of wind hissing through metal followed before another shriek filled the air and silence fell once more.

"What was that?"

Nikki shook her head, "I don't know."

Her footsteps were hesitant as she walked in the direction of the noise. Feeling a bit more on edge, Steve suddenly wished he'd had the sense to grab his shield before following her. They didn't know what had made that sound, or if it actually was Dmitri, and he had never had to rely solely on Nikki's abilities before. Of course, he didn't doubt she was fully capable of protecting both of them.

When they reached the doors, a small flame flickered to life in Nikki's palm. It grew larger until it had engulfed her fingertips and it coiled and danced around her wrist. Without bothering to look to Steve, she pushed the door inward, and went completely still.

The fire around her hand died as her eyes widened and the blood seemed to leave her face. For the first time since he had known her, Steve could have sworn she looked afraid. He took a step closer to the open door, prepared for a fight, and froze. There were two men inside the room. One of them, who seemed to be just slightly younger than the one with dark hair and the posture of a soldier, had been the man from Nikki's sketches that Steve had seen so long ago.

He had the same green-grey eyes that Nikki had colored in, the only color she had given the sketch, and dark ginger hair. There were a few notable differences from the sketch, Steve noted, particularly the worry lines etched into his forehead and the dark purple body armor he wore. But he seemed to be just as surprised to see Nikki as she was to see him.

"Magda?" the man murmured, the word almost lost in his low tone.

Nikki's whole body seemed to tense as he spoke, but she didn't move a step as she said, "Erik."

"Magda!"

All three turned to look at the dark-haired man as he crossed the room in just a few strides and enveloped Nikki in a hug. She hesitated before returning the embrace, never taking her eyes off of Erik.

"I missed you, _solnyshka_," he laughed, pulling back to look at her. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"What is he doing here?" she asked, her tone sharp.

Erik looked offended, "I haven't seen you in twelve years, and this is how you greet me?"

"I was speaking to Dmitri," she snapped. "In case you still think the world revolves around you."

"After what you did, the least you could do is offer me some respect," he replied, closing the distance between them as he grabbed her arm.

"Hey!" Steve all but shouted, knocking his hand away. "Don't touch her. Who do you think you are?"

"Her husband. Who are you?"

Steve hesitated at that, not expecting the man's answer, "I'm her...friend."

"Enough," Nikki shouted, looking between the two. "What are you doing here, Erik?"

"I wanted to see you again," Erik answered, his tone marginally softer.

Nikki narrowed her eyes, "I didn't."

"So I see," he retorted, gesturing around them. "You didn't exactly make it easy."

"That was kind of the point. I thought the fact that I left for another universe would make that clear."

"Woah, Erik, Magda, wait," Dmitri said, looking almost taken aback by the vindictiveness in both of their tones. "I don't know what happened, but you used to be inseparable. You could at least try not to kill each other."

Steve wondered if maybe he should get involved. But, what with the almost hateful glares being exchanged between them, he felt as though it was more of a personal matter. His belief was only cemented when Nikki looked incredulously between Dmitri and Erik.

"You didn't tell him, did you?"

Erik seemed to grow pale as Dmitri looked at him expectantly, "I've changed."

"Changed?" Nikki asked, giving a sardonic laugh. "Oh, yeah. You changed. That's exactly why I left you, Erik."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry for what, exactly? Sorry you disappeared for four years to look for Shaw without so much as sending a letter to let me know you weren't dead? Or are you sorry for sleeping with Raven while we were still together? Or maybe you're sorry for what you did to Anya."

"What happened to Anya wasn't my fault."

"It was entirely your fault!" she shouted. "And then you lied to me about it. She was eight years old, Erik. If it wasn't for you, she would still be alive!"

Before Steve could so much as even blink, Erik had taken a quick step forward and had grabbed Nikki by her wrists. Both ex-soldiers made to move towards the two, to separate them before it escalated into something much worse, even as Erik opened his mouth to shout. But Nikki had become furious at the touch and flicked her fingers out suddenly. A sound like a hurricane boomed through the room, a force whipping past both men harmlessly to collide into Erik and send him flying across the room.

He landed awkwardly against the wall across from her, a wince twisting his features as he collided with the metal walls. The man pushed himself off the floor, his expression painted in confusion, and looked up at Nikki. She glared back at him with clenched fists.

"You won't touch me again."

Each word was said with such conviction that Steve had to suppress a shiver. It took a minute for the implication of her words to reach him, that it wasn't the first time Erik had been physically aggressive with her, and he automatically took a step towards her. He may have fully believed that she could stand up for herself but that didn't mean he wasn't going to back her up. If there was one thing above all others that Steve stood against, it was abuse of any kind.

"You're a mutant, too?"

Nikki scowled at the shocked edge in Erik's voice, "What would it have mattered if I'd told you? Would you have done anything different if you had known that I wasn't human?"

"It makes all the difference," he replied.

"I had no control back then. You would have seen my mutation as a weapon to use in your damned war," she snapped. "You wouldn't have even seen me as a person anymore."

He looked almost wounded by her words, "I never meant to hurt you."

"Which time?" she replied bitterly.

Before Erik could respond, the door behind them slammed open and in poured half a dozen S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Coulson came in last, pushing through the armed men until he stood at the front of their formation, and stopped at the sight of the four. He lowered his gun slightly as his eyes moved from Dmitri and Erik to Steve and Nikki.

"Steve, Miss Eisenhardt, I'd appreciate an explanation."

Nikki gave a halfhearted shrug, "It's nothing, Agent, just my adoptive father and my ex-husband. No need to be alarmed."

"Ex-husband?" Coulson repeated skeptically.

"Unfortunately," she sighed, moving to gesture to both of the men in turn. "This is Dmitri Maximoff and Erik Lehnsherr."

"And both are mutants," Coulson asked.

"Teleportation, with his range going as far as alternate worlds," she answered, gesturing at Dmitri and then to Erik, "and magnokinesis – the manipulation of magnetism."

"Can we trust them?" one of the agents in the back asked.

Both Steve and Coulson looked to Nikki, wondering the same. She glanced between the agents and the two mutants, a calculating look in her eyes, before giving a resigned sigh.

"You can trust Dmitri with your life. Erik, on the other hand, you need to keep an eye on. He's never really cared for humans."

"I told you, I've changed," Erik protested. "And it's Magneto. It has been for nearly fifteen years."

"Oh, great. One of those," Coulson muttered as Nikki gave a disbelieving scoff.

"One of those?" Erik repeated, his tone almost daring them to say something more.

"Erik!"

Dmitri, Erik, Steve, and Coulson all flinched at the reprimanding tone in Nikki's voice. She sounded equal parts like a parent and like a disgruntled wife with a single word. Erik met her eyes, a silent conversation being exchanged between the two, and he raised his hands as if in defeat.

"As you wish, Magda," he said, looking at her with an almost imploring expression.

Nikki looked over him one last time, her dark eyes roaming over him as though searching for a lie, before she turned around and stalked towards the door with one final wave for Dmitri to follow her. He could just barely hear them speaking about the kids and HYDRA as they walked down the hall. If Steve hadn't have known better, he could have sworn Erik looked very nearly remorseful as she walked away. But before he could truly put a name to the emotion, the mutant's eyes locked on his own. The guilt was gone from their depths. He looked at Steve with the slightest realization, but it was quickly replaced by what could only be envy.

Steve barely noticed as the agents lowered their guns and filed out of the room, leaving only Coulson, Erik, and himself. The mutant took a few steps forward, looking the captain up and down as though sizing him up, before stopping roughly two feet away. Erik was just a hair's breadth shorter than him and yet Steve almost felt as though the man was looking down at him.

"Her friend, hmm?" Erik asked, his tone demeaning. "Magda always did have an unfounded pity for strays..."

Giving a sharp, forced smile, he brushed past both men and sauntered out of the room. Steve watched him as he want, taken aback by his words, before meeting Coulson's eyes. The agent gave a wan smile.

"Charming. I can't imagine why she left him."

Steve couldn't stifle the laugh he gave, shaking his head in disbelief, "You should have heard them before you got here. But you were right about her daughter's death. Nikki said it was his fault Anya died."

Coulson glanced towards the door, giving a resigned sigh, "Well, looks like things are going to be tense. And Fury's going to be thrilled."

"With two new mutants on the Helicarrier?" Steve said with a huff. "Oh, yeah. HR's going to have a heyday with all the paperwork this is going to need."


	18. Chapter Seventeen

_**Okay, guys. I've got to warn you. These next two chapters are going to deal with some heavy stuff regarding Nikki's relationship with Erik. A lot is going to be told about Nikki's half of the story, but I do want you to remember that. There are always two sides (if not more) to every story, the same can be said about Nikki and Erik's past, so remember that we haven't heard his half yet. I'm not trying to demonize Erik in any way. We will hear his side soon.**_

_**Song of the Chapter - Civilian by Wye Oak**_

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><p><em>"We ruined each other by being together. We destroyed each other's dreams."<em>

_-Kate Chisman_

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><p>Erik was not having the best of days. When he had finally found Dmitri, and talked him into taking him to Magda, he had thought he had everything planned perfectly. He would find her barely changed from when they had been happy, explain all of his actions and apologize for how he had wronged her, take her back to the world they belonged in, and maybe start another family. Instead, everything had gone to shit. He thought he had taken every possibility into account. What he hadn't counted on, however, was the possibility that she would want nothing to do with him. Losing his temper was another thing which hadn't been on the agenda.<p>

Of course, he couldn't entirely blame her. He had made a few highly questionable choices in the past. Sleeping with Mystique after the incident in Cuba, while still married to Magda, was pretty high up on that list. Then there was Anya, his _Mäuschen_. She had been one of the few bright lights in his life. Even at eight years old, she had looked just like her mother. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the worn old photograph, and looked down at the last image he had of his little girl. Despite the image being in black and white, he could still remember the mess of dark hair that Magda had needed to brush through every morning, the red highlights among her curls that were only visible in the sunlight, the way she pouted when he would leave to train the Brotherhood - much like the way he pouted when Magda refused to stay in bed one last hour - and the bright happiness in her dark eyes, untainted by the darkness both her parents had experienced.

Her gifts had been the final stroke in her perfection. Looking up from the photograph and at Magda, who was discussing something about a rescue mission with Dmitri from across the room, he wondered if he would have seen Magda as perfect had he known that she was a mutant, too. It was true that part of the reason behind his infidelity had been because he hadn't thought she would understand the struggle his kind faced and had a moment of weakness. It was only after she had left, and after Mystique had parted ways with him, that he realized Magda was home to him. He wanted that back.

But it seemed she had moved on without him. She had a home, the family of mutants he had heard about who she loved dearly, and it didn't include him. In fact, she seemed almost desperately determined to keep him out of it. The proof of that was obvious when she had been showing Dmitri photos of the mutants she was taking care of.

He had been curious, as he hadn't known where she had been, much less that she had taken others of their kind with her. It had been the name 'Pietro' that had caught his attention, as he remembered the silvery-haired boy who had broken him out of the Pentagon two years prior. He hadn't seen the kid since and had often wondered if Charles had brought him into the newly rebuilt school. However, as he looked over her shoulder at the photographs on the screen of her hand-held computer, he saw that the boy wasn't alone.

In the photo, he was standing to the side of a brunette girl. They shared the many similar features. The same funny colored eyes, the same broad smiles, and there was only the slightest difference in the slope of the girl's nose. Though he couldn't entirely place them, there was something about them that looked rather familiar.

"I didn't know he had a sister," he said.

Magda all but jumped out of her skin, putting three feet of space between them as she turned around to face him. Her gaze flicked back and forth between him and the photo on the screen and, if Erik didn't know any better, he could have sworn she looked alarmed.

"Yeah. Twins."

"Maximoff," he read off the screen, eyes turning to Dmitri. "I didn't know you had children."

A strange look crossed Dmitri's face before he smiled hesitantly, "I _did _have a life after you two moved away."

"Strange," Erik mused, looking at the picture once more. "I could have sworn you told me you couldn't have children..."

"I adopted. Again."

And there it was. Erik may not have been a telepath like Charles, but he knew Dmitri well enough to know his tells. His smile didn't reach his eyes, which almost never happened with him, and he shifted his foot as though uncomfortable. Erik fought the urge to sigh.

"You always were a terrible liar."

"What does it matter if he adopted them or not," Magda snapped. "If he considers them to be his, they're his kids."

"Why are you getting so defensive?"

"Why are you prying into his private life?"

"It was an innocent question."

"Nothing is innocent with you, Erik."

"I've changed. I told you that."

She scoffed, "I don't believe that. And I think you know why."

"I never meant to hurt you, Magda," he shouted, the words feeling even less convincing the second time. "I didn't want you to leave."

"Then maybe you should have fought harder," she spat.

Erik took a step back, the words sending him reeling as he heard them in her voice. There was a vindictiveness in the way she said them, a cruelty as though she was trying to hurt him, and he knew immediately that she knew they were his words. She knew he said those exact words to Charles. The fact that she was trying to hurt him didn't bother him, as he knew she had every right to try. What troubled him was why Charles would share an entire memory with her. They had been close after she fled Germany, certainly, but sharing a memory? That was an intimate gesture.

"Did you sleep with him?"

"Excuse me?"

He took a few steps closer, bearing down on her as the distance between them closed, "Did you fuck him?"

It happened within seconds. One minute, he was staring down into shocked brown eyes. The next, a sharp pain rippled through his muscles like an electric current and he was sent flying backwards. The crash of his armor slamming into the metal wall behind him echoed in his ears, matching the pain of the impact, and he fell to his hands and knees. Magda's footsteps approaching drew his attention upward and he was met with raw outrage.

"Did I fuck him?" she repeated in German, glaring down at him with clenched fists. "You don't have a goddamned clue of what I went through after I left. Do you know how difficult it is - how dangerous it is - for a woman to travel across Europe on her own? It took two months for me to save the money to get a ticket to New York. And I didn't even know where exactly Charles _was_. If he wasn't a telepath, I may have never found him!

"I was terrified, paranoid, that you would find me. Charles was getting over his own troubles, and too wrapped up in you to even think of me in that way! Besides, I highly doubt a Romani woman with postpartum depression running from her ex-husband was attractive. So, no, I did not 'fuck him'."

It was then that the last puzzle piece fell into place for Erik. He kneeled there on the floor, looking up at his enraged wife, and gaped silently as he thought of the days after she left. He vaguely recalled Azazel telling him of how she had said she had good news before she walked in on him and Mystique. It answered the question as to why Dmitri didn't seem to have a complete story and why Magda was so adamant on keeping him away.

"Postpartum?" he repeated, pushing himself up off the floor and back onto his feet.

The expression on her face only cemented his suspicions. Realization, apprehension, and fear all flashed across her features in a quick succession. She took an automatic step back, shaking her head at him ever so slightly as though she almost thought she could still dissuade him of the truth they both knew. It was clear that she had never meant for him to figure it out. And though it was obvious, he still wanted to hear her say it, still needed to hear her say it, as though it would make the fact real in some way.

"That's why you were lying," he said to Dmitri before returning his attention back to Magda, hoping to force the answer from her. "That's why you were so defensive about it. The twins aren't his, they're ours."

The air around them seemed to rise several degrees and Erik felt as though something was putting pressure on his chest. One of the agents, who had steadily inched towards the door after she threw him into the wall, edged closer hesitantly.

"Miss Eisenhardt," the young man warned, his voice soft as though afraid of angering her.

"Get out," she snapped, not bothering to look at the boy.

He seemed taken aback by her words, stopping short just a few feet away, "But..."

"OUT!"

The agent jumped as three of the computer screens across the room exploded. Fragments of glass slid across the floor, reaching all the way to the doorway, and Dmitri took that as his signal to do something. He walked briskly towards the agent and ushered him, and the rest, out the door.

"It's best if we let them talk it out alone," Erik heard him say as they left.

Magda's eyes were stormy when he met her gaze once more, her jaw clenched in anger.

"They are not yours," she said softly, her tone vehement. "You're their father, but they're not yours. They never were."

Her words caused something deeply buried to snap within Erik. It had been so long since he had hope of ever seeing her again, of ever having a family once more. Now he'd found her and learned that she had kept two kids - _his _kids - a secret from him for almost sixteen years. He had missed out on their childhood, on the chance to be a father again. He wasn't angry, not like the day she left him, not like the day she had told him how he had become just like Shaw. No, this was different. He wanted her to hurt as much as he was hurting in knowing what she had kept from him.

"Apparently, they aren't yours either," he said, his voice cold and derisive. "After all, I seem to recall Charles mentioning something about a woman who raised them. I believe her name was Suzanna...?"

The second the words were out of his mouth, he immediately regretted them. The color fled her face, her dark eyes widening at his words, and she looked as though he had just taken a knife to her heart and gave it a twist for good measure. Her entire demeanor changed and her shoulders fell and she seemed to grow smaller before him. It was almost as if her grief was tangible in the air, and Erik felt the anger seep out of him in response.

He had seen Magda heartbroken before. When Anya had died, she seemed to have fallen into a spell in which she seemed almost out of touch with the world. She had barely eaten during those few months, suffered nightmares when she did manage to sleep, and barely responded when he had spoken to her. He had watched as she had brooded around the house when Dmitri moved away. None of those compared to the anguished regret in her eyes as she looked at him now. She didn't seem upset with him anymore, but with herself.

She turned away, an action he immediately recognized as her trying to keep him from seeing her cry, and walked towards the door. He took a step forward and reached out, willing the door to hold as she pushed at it. She shoved at the unyielding metal angrily. A frustrated scream fell from her lips as it stayed shut, and she looked down at the floor.

"Magda, wait," he pleaded.

"Open the door."

"Not until you tell me why."

"Why what?" she snarled, turning to look at him at last. "You took everything from me, Erik, stripped me down and tore me apart. What more do you want from me?"

"You knew," he started, letting his hand drop. "You had to have known about them the day you left."

She gave a soft scoff, "Of course I knew. I was planning to tell you. But then Angel said how she was sorry about Anya, about how she missed seeing her around, and I...

"I asked one thing of you, Erik, just one. I didn't say a word when you brought back a band of mutants to our home. I barely protested when you started training them into your own personal army, when you started talking about extinction and evolution and war. You were allowed to do as you pleased, so long as you promised me one thing, so long as you kept Anya out of it. You couldn't even do that for me."

"She was a mutant," he insisted. "She deserved to know about our kind and our struggle."

"She didn't deserve to be placed in the middle of a war that didn't exist. You saw what the war did to us, to the dozens of other children who managed to live through the camps. She was still just a child. I didn't want her to go through the same, especially when it wasn't necessary."

"Humanity was planning our persecution."

"But did you have to pressure her into it?" she demanded, sounding more desperate than angry. "You blinded her with stories of your cause and being a soldier. She died because she felt as though she had something to prove, because she thought she needed to be a part of your war to make you proud."

He shook his head, "Anya never had anything to prove."

"But she didn't know that. What's more is that you didn't tell me. You kept her mutation a secret from me, got her in on it. You looked me in the eye every day and lied to me. I could have forgiven the affair, I could have come to understand that, but the lies? How could I trust you again after that?"

"I thought you wouldn't understand..."

"Because you thought I wasn't a mutant," she said.

"Why did you not tell me?"

"What would you have done if I had, Erik?" she breathed. "You would have seen my mutation as a tool, something to train into a weapon for your war, just like Shaw. I didn't want to be like that monster. I didn't want to be different or 'better'. My whole family was ripped from our home and killed for being different! So I thought that I could just pretend to be normal, and it would come true. I thought it was what you would want, too. Normalcy after what we went through."

He frowned at her, knowing she had a point. What she said was mostly true, as he would have pushed her to her limits just as Shaw did to him, and the thought hurt. Her motives had been in the right place, even if her methods weren't. He couldn't blame her for that.

"I had the right to know about Pietro and Wanda," he said, though he barely sounded convincing.

"No, you didn't," she told him. "Not after Anya."

"I wouldn't have made the same mistake with them."

She shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears, "We both know that's not true. You would have done the exact same thing to them, pushed them too far too fast. And the truth is, I never could say no to you. I thought I needed you but, in the end, I loved them more than I depended on you."

He stared at her in silent shock, unsure of how to respond to what she was telling him. It was something he didn't want to hear, nor was he prepared for it, and he couldn't find anything to counter her words.

"I left because if you had ever came home and told me that you had killed another of my children, I wouldn't have been able to keep on living," she whispered.

The words hit him like a blow, and it seemed as though he couldn't breathe. There was no anger in her tone, just a grim finality that came with the truth, and it was exponentially worse than if she had shouted at him. The implication of her words was the worst and he knew exactly what she wasn't saying. _I couldn't watch more of my family die_. No one was left of her family, just himself and her kids. The grief of losing them would have been the last straw.

As though sensing his inability to come up with something to say, Magda turned away and all but ran for the door. He didn't protest, let the door swing open without a single thought, and watched as she left. The silence of the empty room only seemed to amplify the echo of her words. Left alone with his thoughts, Erik turned his attention to the metal desks and chairs around the room. They crumpled under his rage.

So much for his plan.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**_Oh, God, guys. This chapter was both emotionally taxing and liberating to write. This is the one where we get down to the grit and the demons of Nikki's past. It took a lot to actually get it down on paper, especially given how she keeps so much to herself, but it needed to be said and Steve was the best candidate (since she's just not emotionally ready to lay it all out for Erik just yet). I mean, yeah, she told him a lot in the last chapter, but not anything regarding her insecurities. So, I hope you all enjoy it._**

**_Song of the Chapter: I of the Storm by Of Monsters & Men_**

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><p><em>"<em>_Trust is like a mirror, you can fix it if it's broken, but you can still see the crack in that motherfucker's reflection."  
><em>–Stefani Germanotta

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><p>"So they're okay with Freyja marrying Loki?" Steve asked, looking at Thor skeptically. "I thought they were an endogamous culture."<p>

"Traditionally, they are," the god assured him. "However, given the circumstances, they have chosen to admit exceptions. As the sole heir with a rightful claim to the throne, there is little they can say against her choice. I don't think they would if they wanted to. He saved her life, after all."

Steve nodded in understanding, pleased that Freyja was actually going to have something go well for once in her life. After Thor had explained about the series of murders in detail, and how Thanos had infiltrated Asgard even after death, Steve had realized it would have been near impossible for Freyja to help with the constant Kree attacks. He couldn't blame her for refusing to return. But there was still one thing troubling him.

"Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

Thor shook his head, "Not at all."

"How did your youngest brother, a prince of Asgard, end up here?"

"When we were young, the Norns came to our father with a prophecy," he explained. "They foretold that Ragnarök, the end of the gods, would begin with the death of Balder. More than that, they said his death would be brought about by Loki. I could never bring myself to believe it. Balder was closer to Loki than anyone else, even our parents, and Loki loved him dearly.

"But our father has always harbored a prejudice against Loki for his blood, and so chose to send Balder here in the care of one Vanir and one Einherjar. We never saw him again, until recently."

"But if his death is foretold, why would you be worried about him now? Wouldn't it mean that he's not going to die?" Steve asked.

He shook his head, "If there is anything I have learned from Freyja, it is that the future is never entirely certain until it is directly upon us. The Norns can only give the most likely outcome."

Before Steve could reply, a handful of agents came rushing down the hall, causing both Thor and himself to jump out of the way. They all seemed relatively shaken, a few glancing over their shoulders in the direction that they came. Dmitri was the only one of the group who stopped when he saw them.

"Ah, Rogers," the mutant said, giving a shaky smile.

"What's all this?"

"Magda – Nikki, sorry, and Erik are…having words."

"Having words?" he repeated.

As if on cue, there was a resounding _bang_ of something colliding with metal coming from down the hall. Thor's hand twitched towards Mjolnir's handle even as Dmitri winced.

"More or less," he replied. "I should tell you, Magda has asked me to search for the kids, so if your boss-man comes looking for me, tell him I'm doing his job for him."

"Will do," Steve said, though he was only half listening.

Dmitri turned to walk away, but stopped and glanced at Steve over his shoulder, "Oh, and Rogers, you might want to leave them alone. Unless they tear this plane out of the sky, which I don't doubt – quick tempers, the both of them. Only then you should get involved."

He turned away without another word, not even bothering to get Steve's response. The second the mutant was out of sight, Steve turned his attention down the hall, wondering if Nikki was alright. He barely reacted when Thor's hand fell on his shoulder.

"You are not going to listen, are you?"

"I don't trust Lensherr," Steve admitted. "I don't know what he did exactly, but it's obvious that he's hurt Nikki somehow. He puts her on edge."

"They were married," Thor pointed out. "Perhaps it best to leave them be."

He shook his head, "She moved to an entirely different universe to escape him. Who does that?"

"Someone who is desperate," Thor answered in defeat. "And terrified."

"Exactly," he said, walking in the direction Dmitri and the agents had come from.

Steve was vaguely aware of Thor shaking his head at him, but he didn't bother to say anything more as he walked away. After all the months he had spent in the House with Nikki, Hannah, Bali, Remy, and the kids, he still felt as though he should do whatever he could to help. Even if Nikki hadn't quite forgiven him yet.

Before he could reach the door, it swung outward so quickly that he had to step back to keep from slamming into it. Nikki walked out, apparently not seeing the ex-soldier and god, and immediately turned to walk down the opposite hallway. Steve just barely caught a glimpse of her face as she walked away. It almost looked as though she was crying.

A strange screeching noise, almost like nails on a chalkboard, emanated from the room Nikki had just left. Steve turned towards Thor and nodded towards the closed door.

"Make sure he doesn't drop us out of the sky," he said. "I'm going to check if Nikki's okay."

Thor nodded in agreement, not bothering to argue, and Steve got the impression that Thor understood why he was doing this. He gave a nod in thanks and took off down the hall in hopes of finding Nikki.

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><p>He could hear her crying softly before he even opened the door. It had taken a bit more time than he had expected to find her, and it was obvious that she had wanted to be alone, as she was in one of the engine rooms. How she managed to hear the squeak of the door alongside the other sounds of metal on metal was beyond him. But when he stepped into the room, her entire posture went rigid. Her stance softened when she glanced briefly over her shoulder at him.<p>

"This really isn't a good time, Rogers."

"I just wanted to make sure you're alright," he told her.

"Well, you have your answer," she said, throwing her arms out wide as if gesturing to the room around them. "Now could you please leave me alone?"

He took one last step closer, the space between them gone, and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. She barely responded to the touch.

"If you want to be alone, there's a much better room," he said. "I could show you, if you want."

"Why?"

He hesitated, wishing she would turn around to look at him, "Because no one ever goes there. And I know what it's like to want to be left alone sometimes."

He walked around to face her, offering out his hand. Her eyes were rimmed with red and her cheeks were tear-stained, a deep-set sort of pain echoing in her glassy brown eyes, and his heart broke for her. When she had been locked in that cell with no hope, Steve had thought he had seen her without her usual armor. He knew differently now. It was now that her armor had been stripped away completely, some old wounds that he was only vaguely aware of had been wrenched open, and she was left defenseless and raw.

She stood there looking at him, never saying a word, as though she was considering ignoring his offer. But then she gave a quiet sigh, taking his hand slowly. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before leading her back out the door. Back when he had been on the Helicarrier for the first time, when Loki had popped up in Germany, he had spent many of the nights exploring the relatively empty hallways. It had allowed him to find many rooms that almost never used by the staff and agents on board. Whenever he wanted to think in silence, his favorite place to go was what he had come to call 'the observation room'.

It wasn't a particularly large room, maybe four feet in width and ten feet in length, but it was completely empty. However, much of the space didn't have a floor and anyone who walked in was only able to cross the room using the catwalk-like walkway that was suspended over the main engine far below. But his favorite part of the observation room was the long panel of wide windows which were directly at eye level if you sat down on the walkway.

Nikki gave him a confused look as they walked in, but said nothing. He let go of her hand, walking down the metal panel to take a seat on the edge, and motioned for her to come closer. She didn't protest or leave the way they came, instead she chose to sit down next to him and lean against of the handrail's bars. Outside the windows across from them was the night sky, stars littering the velvet black sky.

"I used to come here when I was lonely," he told her. "If I didn't look anywhere but out there, I could almost pretend that nothing had changed. I could pretend that I was going home, that I had a home to go to. Truth is, I was lying to myself the whole time."

Nikki pulled her legs up against her chest, resting her head on her knees as she stared out at the night sky, "The war never leaves you, regardless of how long ago you left the war."

He stopped short at that, looking at her as she spoke.

"I don't know how long it's been for you, how long it feels like, but it doesn't really matter in the end," she said, her voice hollow. "It's been thirty-two years for me and it still hangs over me every time I make a decision. I suppose it's different for you. You were a soldier, after all, and I was a prisoner. But it instills this fear in you that fills your veins and seeps into your very bones. It's inescapable because it's a part of you and, no matter how fast or far you run, you can't run away from yourself.

"I've made so many mistakes, all because I've been afraid. I've hurt everyone I've ever loved because of it. When I came here, I thought things would be different. I thought I could finally protect them. Unlike you, my problem isn't that everything has changed, it's that nothing has."

She took a shaky breath, another tear sliding down her face. In the silence, he could see how her body shook as though she was just barely holding back, as though she was so close to breaking down completely.

"I hate being this weak," she whispered. "I've been weak since the day the Nazis dragged us from our home. I married Erik because I thought he could make me stronger, because he was all I knew and all that I could recognize after the war. We were too young, too damaged, and we tore each other apart. I can't come to regret marrying him, though, because it gave me Anya.

"She was the most beautiful part of my world, the only redeemable part of the world I could see. I know it was the same for Erik. I guess that's why he kept her mutation from me. Erik didn't know that I was a mutant, I thought that was how he would have wanted it, so I suppose he felt Anya's gifts would have upset me.

"In those days, he had just started the Brotherhood of Mutants. They were this ragtag group of mutants from all over, those who had been persecuted by humanity, those who, like Erik, could not forgive the world for what it had done to them. I asked him to keep Anya away from them. After all, I knew what happens when children live through wars. But she was a mutant, and he couldn't help himself."

She couldn't stop crying now. That much, Steve could tell. He watched her, saw how her eyes were decades in the past, as she pushed through all that she had to say. It seemed she couldn't stop herself now, not when she finally was able to say it.

"There was a fire. I suppose she started it by accident, practicing with her mutation, but no one was home. Raven had come to Erik with an emergency, and he left her alone. I came home to an inferno. Erik and I dragged her out, but it was too late. My little girl died in my arms, choked in soot and smoke, and I couldn't do anything to save her. Shaw taught me how to destroy, not to save. I sat there in the dirt, helpless as I was the day my sister died.

"I thought it was an accident for months, that maybe she had knocked over a candle. When I learned the truth, that he had filled her head with ideas of glory and fighting alongside his brotherhood, I knew what she had been doing. Anya always wanted to make us proud. She made it her personal mission to make us smile every day, and she was likely trying to master her mutation in the hopes of making Erik happy. It was then that I realized Erik was just as scarred as I was. And I was terrified."

"There's nothing wrong with fearing for your life," he assured her, sliding closer to her.

She shook her head, still refusing to look at him, "I wasn't running for myself. I was scared that he would do the same thing to them."

"Them?"

She nodded sadly, "I never told anyone except Charles and Dmitri, not until now. They don't even know."

"Pietro and Wanda," he guessed, remembering how Natasha had told him they hadn't existed in this world.

"I didn't want to lose another child," she sobbed. "I was so afraid of him finding them and pushing them, just like Shaw pushed us. So I ran. I ran to a man I didn't even know, to a man Erik had vaguely told me about, all the way in America. To Charles. And, yes, he agreed not to say a word. He accepted me into his home and, for a while, I felt safe.

"But the day they were born, it came creeping back. That lingering sense of terror that I could never escape. I worried about what would happen if Erik figured out where I went, if he found the twins, took them away from me in every sense of the word. So I did something unforgivable. I gave them away so that, even if he found me, he would never be able to hurt them."

She looked at him at last, the final scrap of an apathetic mask falling away to reveal a devastated misery that was etched into every inch of her expression.

"I let another woman raise my kids," she choked. "They grew up thinking that they weren't wanted. What kind of mother does that?"

Her voice broke on the last word, the sentence hanging in the air between them acting as the break in a dam, and she couldn't stop her sobs. Her shoulders shook as she cried, burying her face in her arms. She looked ashamed.

He turned to face her entirely, pulling her close against his chest, and held her tightly. There were no words he could say to make things better, but he still wanted it to be clear that he didn't look down on her for what she had done. He wanted her to know that he didn't think any less of her. So he stroked her hair as she grieved over what she had been forced to do.

"They didn't know me when I saw them again," she managed to say, her voice almost a hoarse whisper. "I looked into their eyes and they didn't know me."

"You did what you thought you had to," he breathed, using all his strength to keep his voice even. "You made a hard call to protect your kids. That's all."

"It didn't work," she murmured. "Charles had Pietro help him break Erik out of prison. I watched as Erik spoke on television, calling to all of us to join his cause, and I was afraid again. That's why we came here. Because Erik was starting a war. And now they're in trouble, and Erik knows, and there's nothing I can do. I failed them. All that I gave up, and I still couldn't protect them…"

"We're going to find them," he assured her. "We're going to get them back. I promise."

It was silent once more in the observation room. Steve didn't move from where he sat holding her, didn't complain when her tears stained his shirt. He let her stay there in his arms, not saying another word, and felt fully that he was going to do everything he could to keep his promise. But for now, he sat with Nikki for as long as she needed.

And if a pair of green-grey eyes watched them from the crack in the door, neither of them noticed.

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><p><em><strong>Next chapter: Nikki meets the rest of the team and Steve puts his foot down with Erik. And a little something interesting between Nikki and Steve. ;-)<strong>_


	20. Chapter Nineteen

_**I'm back! So, I was visiting family these past two weeks and, for some bizarre reason, they don't have internet. So this chapter's been done for a while, but I couldn't post it. They live in the middle of godforsaken nowhere and I had to wait. Thank you all for being so patient. **__**A lot is happening in this chapter, oh my god. I always knew this story was going to have a slow burn, even I didn't expect it to take nineteen chapters for these characters to stop pussyfooting around, but what can you do when your characters won't cooperate? You can't force a story.**_

_**Trigger warning for a few racist slurs. No one is using them against anyone. Nikki's just talking about her experience in the '50s and '60s. I apologize thoroughly if I offend anyone.**_

_**PS: The quote is Fitzgerald talking about his wife, Zelda. I just felt like it fit what Steve admires in Nikki.**_

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><p><em>"<em>_I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity, and her flaming self-respect. And it's these things I'd believe in, even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn't all she should be."_

_–__F. Scott Fitzgerald_

In the days after Erik's arrival, it seemed to Steve that things were becoming a bit more amiable between himself and Nikki again. Dmitri had yet to return with any news regarding HYDRA and the kids, leaving Nikki to while away the time training, and the two had spent more time in the R and D department trying out the new uniform Coulson was having made than Steve cared to count.

Coulson had also brought most of his team to meet and work with Nikki. While Agents May and Ward were seeking out the few HYDRA agents they knew of, Skye, who had briefly met with Nikki out of curiosity, was searching out any darknet connections that were floating around. Fitz and Simmons were working on a developing her uniform to be customized on a molecular level. Both had been fascinated with her abilities, with Simmons nearly bombarding Nikki with questions on mutants and what she called the X gene.

At present, Steve was sitting in with Nikki as Simmons spoke with Erik, who claimed to know a bit on mutations himself. Though he had assured Nikki that he wasn't going to harm Simmons, she had refused to let the conversation occur without being absolutely certain. And that meant monitoring them from the sidelines.

She had said several times that she could watch Erik on her own, but Steve had seen the emotional strain she had been putting herself through. She looked much more tired those past days, and although she wouldn't say what was keeping her up, he would have bet his career on nightmares. He didn't want her to have to sit through anything more alone. Which is why he found himself sitting right beside her, his focus leaning more towards Nikki rather than the conversation between Simmons and Erik.

"Do you really think Erik would hurt her?" Steve muttered, keeping his voice low.

Nikki shrugged, "I'm never sure of anything with Erik."

"Is he really like that?"

The sigh she gave was long-suffering, but she shook her head, "Erik isn't a terrible person. Given what we've been through, he could have been much worse. He just…lashes out at people who don't understand. Sometimes, I can understand why he does it, why he looks down at regular people the way he does. They weren't very accepting in our world. They looked at us and thought, if one of us was potentially dangerous, then all of us were. So Erik began to look at them the same way. Ours was a world of monsters and men. And, sometimes, there wasn't a difference between the two."

He nodded in understanding, watching as Erik gestured vaguely at the chair and levitated both it and Simmons an inch off the ground. Manipulation of magnetic fields, Nikki had said. He and Coulson had down a bit of reading up on the subject and the results weren't exactly reassuring. Coulson had stated that, with the extent of power that such a mutation allowed, it was unlikely that even Erik knew his exact limitations. It wasn't exactly a positive idea given that Erik had the disposition of – as Skye had put it – the human incarnation of the grumpy cat. Neither Steve nor Nikki knew exactly what she had meant, but didn't bother with asking.

Nikki tapped him lightly on the shoulder, catching his attention once more, and nodded her head towards something behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of Coulson motioning for both of them from the doorframe.

"Do you think they'll be fine?" Steve asked.

They both glanced back to Erik and Simmons, who know seemed to be have a much more casual conversation.

"They seemed fine," she told him. "She finds him charming now, so he'll be fine."

Steve had to stifle a laugh as they walked out of the room. Nikki spared the two one last glance before shutting the door, turning to look expectedly at Coulson. He motioned for both of them to follow him down the hall.

"Have they found anything?" Nikki asked.

"Not yet," Coulson told her. "You'll be the first to know if we find anything. This is actually regarding the Avengers."

"Oh."

There was a notably dejected edge to her tone, but she didn't say anything more.

"Protocol for new initiates is still in the works as, quite frankly, we weren't expecting a situation like the one you presented," Coulson told her, giving an almost amused smile. "But it seemed only appropriate that you meet the people you're going to be working with."

Nikki stopped walking, causing both men to stutter to a halt as they turned to look at her. She had her arms crossed over her chest and her lips pressed into a thin line and, for a woman who was just barely hit five feet and four inches, there was a distinctly no-nonsense air about her. It almost made her look intimidating.

"Miss Eisenhardt?" Coulson said tentatively.

"There are some things we need to work out if I'm going to be one of your Avengers," she told him. "I've got a family to look after, so I can't afford to go off on one of your away missions and never come back. We struggled to get by on the best months. I need assurance, if something happens to me, that my family will have everything they need.

"And then there's the matter of privacy. I don't particularly care about myself, and I'll give you just about anything you want, but my kids stay out of it. All of them. S.H.I.E.L.D. has absolutely no contact with them unless it's absolutely necessary."

Coulson nodded in understanding, a relieved smile crossing his lips at her words, "I'm sure we can acquiesce to your requests. Is that all?"

"So long as you can guarantee those, we should be fine."

"As Natasha and Clint are on the search for HYDRA and the rest of the mutants, and you seem to have acquainted yourself with Thor, you'll be meeting Tony Stark and Dr. Banner," Coulson said as they continued down the hall. "You've likely seen Mr. Stark on TV, but Dr. Banner came all the way from Mumbai at our request."

"Stark is Iron Man, right?"

Both Steve and Coulson spared her a glance over their shoulders. Ignoring the confused expressions on their faces, Nikki gave a shrug.

"He's Douglas's celebrity crush," she explained. "Ever since the…issue in New York with the" – she gestured vaguely towards the sky, as though she felt too ridiculous to say the word 'aliens' aloud despite being a self-proclaimed 'mutant' – "you know, Douglas has harbored a bit of a crush on him."

"Don't tell Stark that," Coulson chuckled.

"Do not speak to Stark of what?"

The booming voice of Thor caused all three to stop short. He came sweeping down the hallway in his usual manner, his cape and chainmail gone so that he was wearing only his breastplate, vambraces, and trousers – an outfit which the Avengers had come to think of as Thor's casual armor. Nikki's expression brightened considerably when she caught sight of the King.

"Thor!"

"Lady Nikki," he replied, smiling in return. "What is it which we should not speak of to Tony Stark?"

"Nothing important," she answered. "I haven't seen you around the ship recently."

Thor almost looked apologetic as he said, "I have been away, conversing with Heimdall in regard to the search for Balder and your family."

"Heimdall…the man who can see everything?"

"Yes."

"Any news?"

He shook his head sadly, "None yet, my lady. It would seem they are being concealed fairly well, but we shall find them."

"I know," she sighed. "I just wish it was sooner."

It was clear that she had meant for the last bit to be heard only by herself. And with Coulson and Thor now talking about further strategies for finding the missing mutants, she almost succeeded. But Steve had just barely caught the words, her voice so hushed and yet the worry was clear as a ringing bell, and he caught her eyes when she looked back up. Thor and Coulson began to walk further down the hall as they spoke, leaving the two behind. They stood in silence for a handful of seconds.

Just as Steve made to speak, Nikki shook her head, "Please don't."

"I don't-"

"I know what you're going to say," she told him, holding up a hand as if to stop him. "And you've said it already. Coulson has said it a few times – just about every agent tells me the same words. But don't tell me not to worry. I'll always worry about them, even if they're not in any immediate danger, because they're my kids."

Before he could reply, she had turned abruptly around and walked off in the direction of Thor and Coulson. He stood there in confusion, watching her leave, with the question of how the conversation had turned so quickly. Never mind the fact that he had never planned on telling her not to worry. They were her family, in the hands of HYDRA, and he had no intention of saying something so ridiculous. Of course she should be worried.

Steve gave a soft sigh before walking after her, knowing that he was going to want to act as a buffer between her and Tony. They all knew that it took time for the billionaire to grow on people, and Nikki was a particularly withdrawn person upon first meeting others, making him worry about how the two might react to each other. He still remembered the disasters that had ensued between Tony and Freyja upon their first meetings. Though they had eventually come to a sort of mutual agreement, it had been obvious that the two hadn't known what to do with the other.

Before he could get very far, a hand clamped down hard on his shoulder. The motion shocked him, as very few people in S.H.I.E.L.D. deemed it appropriate to even touch him, much less quite that forcefully outside of training. Unreadable green-grey eyes met his when he shot a glance over his shoulder. He frowned at the sight of Erik, his blue eyes glancing from the man's face to where his hand was on him and back.

"Rogers," Erik said, the word oddly sharp for how impassive his tone was. "I believe you and I need to have a discussion."

Steve allowed himself to look over the man that had been Nikki's husband once upon a time. He was still in the strange purple armor-like get-up, which was certain to gain a comment from Stark if the two ever met, but had apparently left his asymmetrical cape in his temporary room. It didn't stop him from looking ridiculous, Steve thought idly. He could certainly see what Coulson had been talking about when he had dubbed him as 'one of those'. Steve hadn't particularly liked Erik when he had first dropped into the Helicarrier, but his distaste for the mutant had grown exponentially after what Nikki had told him regarding their daughter.

"I doubt it, Lehnsherr," Steve replied, knocking the man's hand away.

He made to turn around, to walk away and after Nikki, but the walls around them suddenly pulled together with a _screech_ loud enough to make him wince. The two pieces seem to smash together, rather than weld together, into a makeshift wall in front of him. Steve turned to Erik with a dark expression.

"Shouldn't you be speaking with Agent Simmons still?"

"I finished early," Erik replied, his tone dry. "You're not leaving until I've said my piece."

"Then you'd better make it quick," Steve all but snapped. "Because I'm walking away in two minutes."

Erik took three slow steps forward, a predatory edge to his gait as though he was trying to intimidate, and closed the distance between them. But they were roughly the same height and Steve was reminded of when Tony had tried to do the same thing so long ago.

"I couldn't help but catch the last few minutes of your rendezvous with Magda."

"Is that so?" Steve remarked, sounding much more aloof than he felt.

Though his expression remained neutral, it seemed Erik couldn't hide the anger burning low like kindling in his eyes, "I don't know what you're playing for, but I suggest you back off. Magda doesn't need anyone distracting her, much less romantically, and you seem to be very keen."

"I rather think that's her decision to make," Steve pointed out. "And her name is Nikki now."

A muscle in Erik's jaw twitched. _Ah_, Steve thought as he saw the subtle change in the man before him, _that struck a nerve_. It was only when the mutant's eyes widened slightly that he realized he had said it aloud. A small part of him leapt forward at the sight, wanting to hurt this man for what he had put Nikki through. She was so scared of him, so terrified of what his very presence could mean in regards to her kids, and yet she still faced him every day since he had decided to force his way back into her life. Steve couldn't seem to stop himself.

He wasn't entirely convinced that he wanted to.

"It stings, doesn't it? Knowing she's not your Magda anymore," Steve said, taking a step forward for every time Erik stepped back. "It must hurt to know she doesn't need you anymore. And that's exactly what this is, isn't it? The whole time you were together, she was dependent on you, and you liked that. But she isn't the same person anymore. She's stronger than she ever was, capable of standing on her own feet, and she doesn't need anyone unless she chooses to. And that's what scares you, I'd bet. That she won't choose you. That she'll choose no one."

Erik's face twisted into an almost feral snarl, and his hand shoots upward, his fingers splayed. Steve braced for a blow that never came. Instead, he was suddenly pulled back by the various metal fastenings and buckles in his S.H.I.E.L.D.-standard uniform. His feet left the floor, Erik's hand rising with him.

The shock of the events seemed to act as an epiphany and Steve realized just how much of a line he must have crossed in Erik's eyes. He still can't find it in himself to feel all that bad about it. It's clear what the man wants, but they both know that it won't happen. No matter how much Erik didn't want to hear it, Steve knew that he had to let Nikki go. Because Nikki had closed that chapter of her life for good and had no intention of so much as looking back through the pages.

"Walk away, Lehnsherr," he said, his tone softer now. "I'm not going to fight you."

"You can't take her," Erik hissed, but the anger had seeped out of his voice, as well. "I won't let you."

"It's not up to us."

Steve felt himself fall a fraction of an inch as Erik's resolve wavered. Emboldened by the fact, he pressed a little further.

"In the end, it's not really about us, either."

Erik looked up at that, his lips parting in surprise. For a second, he looked as though he was going to speak, but he simply shut his mouth and dropped his hand. Steve promptly fell back on his feet as Erik turned away from him. He waved his hand as he walked away, sending the bent walls back to where they had been before. One word was all Steve got as he watched Erik leave.

"Go."

* * *

><p>"-see what's so special about me or my family," Steve heard Nikki say as he walked in.<p>

"It's not difficult to understand the importance of you just standing here with us," Bruce pointed out. "You're living proof of the meta-universe theory."

"I know quite a few scientists who'd love to meet you," Tony said, grinning ear to ear. "And half of the physics community would shit a brick."

Nikki laughed at that, looking more at ease than she had that morning, much to Steve's relief. It seemed that the four hadn't needed a buffer anyway. But if he had to guess, Steve wouldn't have been surprised if Bruce had reigned the genius-billionaire in a little bit. It was still a relief to see that they weren't at each other's throats.

"Was something amiss?" Thor suddenly asked him, having the good graces to speak quietly enough for only Steve to hear him. "You were hindered for quite some time."

"Lehnsherr felt the need to talk to me."

"Lady Nikki's previous husband?" Thor asked in surprise.

Steve nodded, "Apparently, he thinks he can dictate what she does with her life."

Thor opened his mouth to reply, but was promptly cut off as Tony called, "Steve, you should have introduced us sooner. She even gets _Godfather_ references!"

She shrugged at Steve, a sheepish kind of smile on her face, "It came out the year before I left. It seems our worlds weren't so different – apart from the whole superhero schtick you have here."

"Which doesn't make sense, by all rights," Tony pointed out. "You come from a world where people are born with powers created by natural genetic mutation, and none of you thought to play superman?"

"Do you know how much prejudice there was in the '50s and '60s?" she countered.

Bruce nodded in understanding, "She's got a point. People in our universe didn't know how to react when faced with people of different skin color. Imagine the response to people who can change reality on a quantum level."

"It was easier for me in some respects," Nikki told him. "My mutation isn't obvious until something triggers it or I choose to use it, so the only thing I had to worry about in public was someone throwing me out of their store because they didn't want to serve a 'hajji' or a 'paki'. I learned pretty quickly that I couldn't wear a _diklo_ in the States without someone mistaking it for a _hijab_."

Bruce gave her an apologetic smile, as though he was apologizing for what she might have been through. But she didn't seem to notice, her eyes trained on Tony as she shrugged, and continued.

"It was harder for those of us with physical mutations. Pietro faced a few problems for his silver hair alone. Kurt can't go out without applying enough makeup for him to be one of the _Face-Off_ contestants. It was a good thing he lived at the mansion or he would have likely been locked up away from the world."

"The mansion?" Tony asked.

She nodded, "Charles's home. He sort of turned it into a boarding school for mutants. Usually, we didn't have students who stayed all year, but Kurt was different. I found him on the doorstep with a note asking us to take care of him."

"People would drop their kids off and never come back?" Steve asked, horrified.

"There was a lot of prejudice towards mutants," she said. "And towards the families of mutants, particularly if they were proud of their children's gifts. We had a handful of students whose parents just wouldn't turn up to take them home on any given year. Those are the kids I took with me when we came here. The kids who had been kicked out onto the streets or whose parents had left them at the mansion."

"You just up and decided to go to another world with a dozen superpowered kids?" Tony exclaimed. "With a handful of temp jobs to support them and no identification? How did S.H.I.E.L.D. not track you down before that?"

At that, Nikki grinned, "Ariana's a technopath. I don't know how exactly she does it, but she managed to get us most of what we needed. And, now that there's internet and satellites, she said it's easier to access what we needed and what the government didn't. Bali helped with the rest of it when he found us. He'd been falsifying his identity for centuries, so he knew a lot of people in that sort of business." – Nikki looked to Thor with a smile – "Your brother's got a big heart. I don't think we'd have made it all that long if he hadn't decided to help us."

Thor returned her smile, "Balder has always been the most compassionate of us. I am glad you and your family gave him a home when we could not."

"Well, I didn't make it easy for him in the beginning," she admitted. "He never held it against me, though. But I'm glad I let him stay. We were stretching ourselves thin with just three adults."

She trailed off, obviously thinking of the kids, Hannah, Remy, and Bali. But before anyone could say anything, she shook her head and looked towards Tony and Bruce.

"So, who's the leader of your little group? Or is it a sort of mutual responsibility?"

"Steve's the leader," Bruce answered.

"Technically," Tony put in. "But I provide all the funding, a crash pad, any and all modifications, and I make us all look cool. Nothing that would influence the Avengers in any way."

"Yes, Tony, we're all very grateful for your contributions," Steve said with a roll of his eyes.

"Stark enjoys speaking about his actions at length," Thor told Nikki, earning an affronted exclamation from Tony.

"While we're talking about what I do for the team," Tony said, clearing his throat as he redirected the conversation. "I have a few ideas for your new getup. Granted, your original was fine for vigilantism but, if you're going to play in the big leagues, you're going to need something more interesting."

"He means 'flashier'," Bruce told her with a small smile.

"I resent that," Tony muttered to him.

Nikki frowned at that, "Why is everyone so adamant on giving me a new outfit. I don't think what I wear is really that important."

"Maybe not to you," Tony said. "But, in your sweatshirt and yoga pants, you made a statement. You were an everyman superhero, fighting for the average Jane and Joe on the streets. Did you know that 'FreeTheAlchemist' became a trending topic when video footage of HYDRA attacking your family leaked out to the public?"

"A what?"

Tony shook his head at her, clearly exasperated with her lack of knowledge on the matter.

"It's an internet and social media thing," Steve informed her. "It's a topic that lots of people see because of something called 'tagging', which allows people to find things easier. I'll explain it completely later."

"Thanks," she whispered back, watching as Tony muttered irritably about pop culture-challenged heroes and Bruce explained to him that five years wasn't enough time to learn about forty-two years' worth of culture.

"Maybe we should leave," Steve suggested, sparing the two scientists a glance. "They'll be at it for a little while. Besides, you look like you could use a break."

"I'm fine."

Steve leaned down, his lips almost brushing against her hair, and good-naturedly whispered, "Liar."

She turned to look at him in disbelief, her face barely an inch from his. He met her eyes evenly, blue to brown, as he waited for her to deny it. She raised an eyebrow at him in a silent question.

"You've got circles under your eyes because you haven't been sleeping through the night," he explained. "And you picked at your food for the past two days. I know you're worried, but you won't be able to help anyone if you put yourself in the infirmary."

She sighed, but it was more resigned than irritated, "You're right." – she turned her attention to Bruce, Tony, and Thor – "It was nice meeting you two, but I'm going to turn in early and I'm sure you have better things to do than this little meet-and-greet."

Tony opened his mouth to protest, but shut it quickly as Bruce elbowed his in the side.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, too, Nikki," Bruce said in reply.

"Rest well, Lady Nikki," Thor called after them.

Although the door closing behind them muffled much of what the other Avengers said after, Steve couldn't help but hear as Tony said, "For being 'just friends', our good Captain seems pretty keen. Following her to bed, and all."

Steve felt his face heat up and stole a glance towards Nikki, but she didn't seem to have heard them. In fact, now that they no longer had an audience, she dropped the façade and almost looked more exhausted than she had before. Steve frowned at the visible change in her entire demeanor. If she continued the way she was, he had no doubt that she would wind up in the infirmary. It said a lot that the safety of her family was more important to her than her own health.

"What are you thinking about over there?"

Steve started, pulled from his thoughts by Nikki's voice. She was watching him carefully, her brows drawn together in a worried line, and he was struck by the idea that she was worried for _him_.

"Recent events," he said, telling himself that he was definitely not lying, just broadening his definition of the truth.

He really needed to stop spending so much time with Natasha.

She gave him a once-over, as though she didn't believe him, and suddenly narrowed her eyes, "You're walking with a limp."

It wasn't a question. It was a blatant statement, almost an accusation, made by the acute observation of a woman who had been running a house full of several mutant children and a demigod. In retrospect, Steve wondered how he ever thought she wouldn't notice in the first place. As he was thinking of an answer, Nikki's eyes focused on something behind him and her lips pressed into a thin line. He glanced over his shoulder, wondering what she had seen, and bit back a groan. They had reached the part of the hall that Erik had ripped apart.

"Did Erik talk to you?"

The way she said talk implied that she meant something a little more forceful than a friendly chat. Steve said nothing, but his answer must have been clear on his face, as she gave a frustrated groan.

"I swear," she muttered. "He can't stop himself. Nothing in my life is sacred in his eyes, everything is up for his scrutiny. And then he has to bother you, as though he has any right to say anything about you, as though you've done anything worse than he has. Where does he get off-"

Steve watched as she turned around, cutting herself off in her anger, but not going more than three feet away before turning around and coming back. She _was_ worried about him, he realized. Nikki was honestly angry at Erik for something that she didn't know all the details of. She cared about him enough to defend him, despite what he had done. Now she was venting and Steve couldn't get in a word edgewise.

"Nikki…"

She didn't seem to hear him as she continued, "If he had hurt you, I swear I-"

So Steve did something he wouldn't have normally down. As she passed by him once more, still pacing as she ranted about Erik, he reached out and grabbed her wrist. Pulling her forward in seconds, his free hand gently angled her face towards his and her words were cut short as his lips crashed down on hers.


	21. Chapter Twenty

_"__Not everyone is okay with living like an open wound. But the thing about open wounds is that, well, you aren't ignoring it, you're healing. The fresh air can get to it. It's honest. You aren't hiding who you are. You aren't rotting. People can give you advice on how to heal without scarring badly."_

–Warsan Shire

* * *

><p>Steve couldn't quite rationalize how they had gotten to this point. He remembered her going on about Erik and how he had confronted Steve, remembered the exact moment when her lips were suddenly against his, but couldn't seem to figure out when the one had become the other.<p>

His hands were at the small of her back, pulling her ever closer to him, while her own were on his shoulders. One of her hands snaked up around his neck and tangled in his hair, her fingers almost touching where his blonde roots were beginning to show. And she was kissing him back. Her lips were moving against his, her tongue tracing the curve of his bottom lip tentatively. A gasp escaped him as her nails raked gently across his scalp, his hands tightening on her waist, and Steve had to remind himself not to hold her too tight for fear of leaving bruises.

It wasn't a fight for dominance when his tongue slipped past her lips, but a slow and tentative rhythm tinged with equal amounts of uncertainty and fervor, and it seemed to him that kissing her felt natural and almost familiar. She tasted of honey and black coffee and something that he could only describe as _her_. He wanted to tell her every thought that wouldn't form into words, every word that he just couldn't seem to say aloud without stumbling and stuttering them out. He wanted her to know exactly what he felt.

She gave a sharp gasp as he nipped lightly at her bottom lip, "Steve…"

He groaned as she said his name, the word barely more than a whisper. It was spoken like a secret only they shared. He opened his eyes just a fraction, memorizing how her dark eyelashes fanned over her cheekbones, and trailed his lips down to her jawline. Her grip on his hair tightened as his mouth met the hollow beneath her ear.

"Steve," she said again, but this time her tone was more steadfast. "Steve, wait."

She pulled him back gently, and he took in her flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Her chest rose and fell in deep breaths, her pupils blown wide, but there was also doubt mixed in her expression. She shook her head wordlessly as she worked to bring her thoughts together.

"I can't – I don't…"

Steve's mind inexplicably went to the different preferences he had read about since Freyja had arrived, who had gotten him on the whole topic to begin with, and took half a step back to look at her. He had gotten the sense that she was interested in him to some degree, but perhaps he was wrong. Or maybe it was more complicated than that. Either way, he would rather know her reason, as it would do no good to jump to conclusions and shoot himself in the foot.

"Is it because you're not 'into' this kind of thing?"

"No! Well, yes…I just," Nikki broke off with a frustrated groan, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes. "I don't even know how to explain this."

"Just try," he said, watching as she put a few more feet between them.

"I think I'm demisexual."

She said it so quickly, Steve almost missed it. He had heard the term before, had even toyed with it a bit when trying to explain his own infrequent sense of attraction, but couldn't seem to come up with a response. Her worry was practically tangible in the air, and it made him try to think over his words more carefully to find exactly what he wanted to say without making her apprehension worse. But his silence was apparently only causing her to become more and more anxious.

"That was why Erik had the affair," she said, her words coming quicker now. "I hated that he did it, hated that he lied, but I could understand why. I wasn't attracted to him. I wasn't attracted to anyone. I tried to fix that, I did, and but I never…the whole reason I had Anya and the twins was because I thought I could fix myself. It didn't make a difference, in the end.

"I didn't know what was wrong with me. I thought there _was _something wrong with me, and for a long time I just kind of accepted it. Then we came here, and Douglas starting wondering about his own identity, and he showed me some of the terms he found. And I realized there was never anything wrong with me, that it's just how some people are.

"Then you showed up. You were compassionate and generous and so damn infuriating. I had no idea how to react with you, and then you look at me like…like _that_," – she gestured towards him with a kind of lost expression in her eyes – "and I think of how everything is absolutely mental in my life. I mean, I wasn't attracted to my own _husband_ and then I think about you and I just…I don't even know how to describe it.

"And there's the timing! My kids are in danger, taken by some neo-Nazi group that's probably experimenting on them, and I need to focus on finding them, not on…_this_. But it just sits in the back of my mind, even when I try to focus – but I can't do a fucking thing to help anyone!"

"Nikki…"

He reached forward, taking a step forward, and placed his hands on her shoulders. She seemed to run out of words then, and her dark eyes met his with an unreadable expression.

"I just can't do this right now," she finished sadly.

"I know," he replied, his hands running down her arms to lace his fingers through hers. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"Don't be," she interrupted, the corners of her lips quirked up in a half-smile. "Maybe we can take a raincheck…pick this up when we've fixed everything?"

Steve smiled in return, a part of him focusing on how she said 'we' and not 'I', as he now knew the answer to the question he hadn't found the words to ask. She wasn't saying nothing could ever happen between them – the exact opposite, he thought with a smile – but that they had to wait. It was for the best. Their priority was finding her family, and everything else could wait.

"A raincheck sounds perfect."

* * *

><p>Skye sat on the lab table, using the actual chair for a footrest, as she watched Fitz pull out a case from the R&amp;D department on the Helicarrier. Simmons was still studying the blood samples Nikki had given them. The Alchemist herself was seated not too far from Skye, listening intently as Fitz explained the mechanics behind whatever was in the case.<p>

She was a little older than Skye had expected, as she had tracked any and all information on the vigilante since Coulson first made mention of another human 0-8-4, and a lot less intimidating than she had been in the few grainy videos. She actually seemed awfully nice for being the same woman who had put Ward out of commission. Actually, the brief times Skye had talked to her, Nikki had seemed downright friendly, if a little world-weary. But what else could be expected from a woman who had lived through Auschwitz and something she had called the Weapon X Project.

She did, however, look as though she was running solely on willpower and coffee. For a woman who had been taking care of a house full of abandoned teens, she certainly hadn't looked all that stressed when they first brought her in two weeks prior. Then again, those two weeks also marked how long HYDRA had held her family prisoner. Skye supposed anyone in Nikki's position would look a little worn down.

"But why gloves?" Nikki asked, catching Skye's attention. "Why not just make a uniform with sleeves?"

Skye looked up from her Stark-Tablet – because Tony had replaced her iPad the second he had the opportunity, but had the good sense to fill the substitute with all of her music – to see what Nikki was asking about. She had the sleeves of her S.H.I.E.L.D.-standard uniform rolled up almost to her shoulders to make room for the shiny black gloves. They were fingerless like Skye's or May's, composed of metallic plates that would limit the amount of radiation she had a tendency to give off, but they came to rest almost four inches above her elbow.

"You'll have to ask Stark," Skye said, drawing Nikki's dark gaze towards herself. "When he dropped by to speak with Coulson, he did a total overhaul of your uniform's design. Said it looked cooler."

Nikki raised her hand, flexing her fingers, "Wonder what the rest of it looks like…"

Skye smirked, tapping through a few files to pull up the 3-D rendering Tony had uploaded, and turned the screen over to show the older woman. Nikki squinted at the picture before raising her eyebrows.

"Is that a…cape?"

Skye hid a snicker, watching how even Fitz raised his eyebrows at the design and Simmons looked up from her blood samples. She and Coulson had exchanged incredulous looks at first sight of it. But Tony had waved off their skepticism, which was a surprising feat given how Coulson had looked at him, and stated that it was both practical and fit in perfectly with the rest of the Avengers.

"Well, at least I won't look like some kid's fantasy," she murmured.

Skye nodded, pulling up the files she had been looking earlier, "Yeah, he actually said that he designed it that way. After Steve said that you never really wore anything flashy, and Tony did a bit of research on the Romani people, he said he wasn't as inconsiderate as to put you in anything that might make you uncomfortable."

"That was considerate of him."

"It happens from time to time."

All four looked up as Coulson walked through the door, his eyes looking over each of them as if to make sure they were actually doing their work. Skye watched how Nikki smiled at him, one which was more comfortable than the polite smile she gave the other agents, and how he nodded in greeting to her.

"I see R&D scrambled to meet Stark's requests," he said, nodding to the gloves Nikki still wore. "How do they feel?"

"Surprisingly comfortable," she answered. "They're awfully lightweight, but Fitz tells me that they're bulletproof and can deflect a knife at certain angles."

Simmons looked up suddenly, turning to "Do they impede your mutation in any way.

Nikki shook her head, "They shouldn't, aside from tamping down on the radiation problem. As far as Charles and I could understand, most of my abilities are controlled through conscious thought, with only a few that rely on instinct."

As if to prove her point, she rolled her wrist, water droplets condensing on her fingertips as she loosely curled her fingers.

"Hey, there's something I've always wanted to ask," Skye said suddenly, watching as Nikki blew across her fingertips and the water droplets froze.

"Go ahead," Nikki said with a smile.

"Do you actually have to…" – Skye wiggled her fingers in a sort of lazy pantomime of what Nikki had done – "to actually use yours powers."

Nikki laughed at that, "Not really, no. But, when I was first really trying to get a handle on everything I can do, Charles helped me work out a few techniques to help me better manage exactly what I want to do. The hand gestures help me better visualize things, creating more focus and minimizing the likelihood of accidentally blowing things up."

"It seems as though a lot of your mutation is instinctual," Simmons said. "It's amazing, and I can't exactly explain it, but your cells have adapted to almost half of the simulations we've run it through. Your body protects itself from your own mutation."

"That would explain how you were unscathed the night you went nuclear," Coulson said. "Even Rogers had a few burns."

"To be fair, that wouldn't have happened if one of your agents hadn't shot me – with an arrow, of all things."

"I'm sure Barton will apologize when he returns."

"Where are the dynamic spy-duo?" Skye asked.

Coulson eyed her Stark-Tablet, raising his eyebrows in a silent question, but answered, "They're currently interrogating a few leads we've managed to bag."

"Any answers yet?" Nikki asked, immediately sounding more hopeful.

He shook his head, "Most of them have cyanide capsules hiding on their persons. The ones that are less inclined towards suicide aren't exactly talking. Clint and Romanoff are the best, they'll get the answers we want."

She sighed, "Any word from Dmitri?"

When he shook his head, Skye watched something dark cross Nikki's expression. She supposed he would look the same in the Alchemist's position. She knew what it was like to live without parents, but Nikki at least had found a father figure in Dmitri, and now he had disappeared again.

"We should have tried to stop him," Nikki murmured. "If HYDRA gets their hands on him, they could potentially reach the other universes if they can harness his mutation. And if there are mutants in mine, aliens in yours, there's no telling what could be in the others."

"You never saw any of the other worlds?" Skye asked.

Nikki shook her head, "No. I asked Dmitri to start looking for safer worlds long before I decided to stay here. There was a war brewing between mutants and humans, one that would likely start soon, and so my intention had been to find a home where mutants would be accepted. It was what Charles and I had wanted.

"But then there was…something that came up, and so I asked Dmitri to tell me about the most likely candidate, and he told me about this world. Charles tried to talk me out of going, but it seemed like there was no other choice at the time, so I took all of the mutants that didn't have families or had been abandoned and we came here."

"You were gone four days after the unveiling of the Sentinels," a deep, smooth voice said from behind them. "Didn't even say goodbye to anyone. Seems to be a habit of yours."

Skye turned to see a fairly tall ginger-haired man leaning against the open doorjamb. Erik, she realized, Nikki's ex-husband and something of an instigator, if Coulson was to be believed. He had aged well, since she guessed he was a little older than Nikki. Then again, if she counted all the years he had skipped, she supposed he looked excellent for an eighty-three year old man.

He was a classical sort of handsome. Were it not for the faint worry lines across his forehead and around his eyes, Skye would have thought he looked rather like the Greek statues in museums. But there was also off-putting about him, something in his gaze and stance that seemed more predatory than human, and then there was the ridiculous magenta-like purple body armor he wore. Coulson had said that he had refused to change into a S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform.

"Do you really want to analyze bad habits right now?" Nikki asked, pulling her gloves off gingerly.

There was no malice in her voice, Skye realized, but a sort of resignation as if she had given up fighting him. With Nikki's words, she watched the tension slowly disappear from Erik's stance. She couldn't help but wonder what bits of the story she was missing. Of course Skye had been filled in a little about the two mutants, and had even hacked into the security feeds to watch the argument that had led to an entire room's worth of electronics to be crushed like tin cans, but only so much information could be gleaned from second-hand sources. And it was painfully obvious that the two had a very interesting past together.

"No, I don't," Erik conceded. "I was hoping I could talk to you. Privately."

Nikki shook her head at that as she handed off the gloves to Fitz, "Whatever you want to say, you can say it now."

Erik looked visibly uncomfortable at that and, when he began to speak, his words were in a language that she couldn't recognize. Skye remembered how they had argued days ago in what sounded like German. This one was slightly different, the words less flowing and much faster. It was almost as though he was more familiar with this language than German. And, when Nikki spoke, her own accent was slightly different than Erik's and she often paused as though searching for the right word.

"How many languages do you speak?" Skye muttered, thinking out loud.

"Five," Nikki answered in English, her attention going to Coulson. "You restricted Erik's access to the kids' files?"

Coulson nodded, "You seemed uncomfortable with him accessing their files, so I revoked his clearance level."

"Oh, well…thank you," Nikki said slowly before turning to Erik. "Why do you want to help? You came to see me, for some reason, and all the sudden you want to help find the kids?"

"It's important to you," Erik muttered, his voice kept low as though he didn't want the rest to hear. "And I don't want them to go through what we did. You were right."

Nikki seemed taken aback by that, her lips parting as though she wanted to speak but couldn't find the words. Skye watched as some of the apprehension seemed to drain from the older woman. Turning to Coulson, as Skye had long since learned that he could read people much better than she ever could, she noticed that even he seemed surprised by Erik's admission. It was a minute change in his expression, the slightest quirk of an eyebrow and widening of his eyes. But she could tell he hadn't expected the mutant to say something like that. Even Fitz and Simmons were watching Erik and Nikki as though waiting for something.

The slamming of the door caused them all to jump, everyone's eyes suddenly turning to the agent in the doorframe. He was panting slightly, as though he had been running, and his eyes flicked from Coulson to Nikki and back. He couldn't seem to speak as he caught his breath.

"What is it, Harvelle?" Coulson asked, breaking the silence.

The agent looked back at him, "It's Maximoff, sir. He's back."

"And?" Nikki asked, taking a step forward.

"He's been shot."


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

**_Sorry for how late this chapter is. There were some personal dilemmas that I needed to take care of before I could write a chapter this emotionally charged. __So, remember when I said we'd only heard Nikki's account of what happened between her and Erik? Now we get to hear Erik's account. Anyway, the plot (the action-movie plot, anyway) moves forward at last. Just a few more chapters to go! I hope you all enjoy._**

* * *

><p><em>"<em>_I think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love. We are good people and we've suffered enough."_

–_Seventy Years of Sleep_ by Nikka Ursula

* * *

><p>Erik watched from his seat as Magda paced back and forth in front of the glass separating them from the operating room. She looked like a caged tiger – all danger and barely contained power. Even though nothing showed in her expression, which was a carefully manipulated mask in his presence, he had felt the temperature of the room rise the second she had seen Dmitri.<p>

He had followed her the second she had torn from the room, not bothering to excuse herself in her haste. They had arrived in the room just in time to see their surrogate father on a stretcher, the white sheets stained with red, but the agents had held them back. Dmitri was in surgery, they had said. He had three bullets in his chest. Erik might not have been so worried, as he had seen Dmitri wounded before, had the man not been unconscious when they wheeled him in.

"You're going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing," he said, his eyes flicking away just for a second. "You may not have noticed, but you're not fully in control right now. The metal is, quite literally, thinning beneath your feet."

She turned her dark eyes towards the floor, and Erik couldn't help but wonder if she could actually see the molecules that made up the steel under her, and sighed. He held his breath as she approached him. Was she feeling more comfortable with his presence there? But she left two seats between them as she sat down, making it very clear that she still couldn't find it in herself to trust him completely.

"He'll be fine," he told her. "The Second World War wasn't enough to kill him, this won't be, either. He'll make it through, and he'll tell us where the children are."

"You don't know that," she said bitterly. "You don't know everything."

He shook his head, his gaze cast downward on his hands in his lap, "I never claimed to."

"Why are you here, Erik?" she asked suddenly, her hand moving from her forehead to push her hair from her face. "Dmitri was already looking for us, but not you. Why bother coming here at all?"

"I told you: I wanted to see you again."

She shook her head, her eyes meeting his unflinchingly, "Don't do that. Don't tell me what you think I want to hear. I always hated when you used to do that, as if I'm too fragile to hear the truth."

"You were the one to pretend you were fragile when we married," he pointed out. "I remember the days when we were young, you came in covered in bruises and scrapes because Sergei had said a girl wasn't as strong as a boy. You had beat that boy bloody just to prove a point. And then his mother had come to our door, yelling at Dmitri for what he was teaching you, and all you did was grin."

It wasn't a lie. In those days he had known she had been a force of nature, made of flint and fire and spirit, something that would likely never be tamed. He had thought her strong even without a mutation. She could have withered and died, been stomped out by the cruelty of the world they had been subjected to, and yet she had only seemed to burn brighter after the liberation of Auschwitz.

"You told me that a man wanted a demure woman, so I thought that was what you wanted."

"Most men," he corrected.

"You didn't bother to make that distinction."

He sighed, burying his face in his hands, "I was upset with you that day. I wanted to hurt you, thought it would knock a little sense into you. It didn't occur to me that you might have taken it to heart."

"When did it become that all we did was lie to each other?" she asked.

"I don't know."

Silence fell between them, heavy with the weight of memories of how everything they had wanted had gone wrong. He wondered if she felt just as lost as he did when it came to making amends. Over the years, while Magda hadn't been actively on his mind at all times, there had been a small part of him that always wondered what they would say to each other if they met again.

"How long has it been for you?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I know Dmitri tends to get the years mixed up," Erik said. "For me, it's been eighteen years since you left. How long has it been for you?"

"Almost sixteen years. You're older than me by ten years now, instead of your usual eight."

"You certainly know how to make a man feel old."

"You're fifty now," she pointed out. "You don't exactly need my help for that. Your hair is even greying."

Despite the tension between them, Erik couldn't help but laugh. The teasing edge to her voice was unmistakable, and oddly good-natured, but what gave it away was the half-smile she gave him.

"I missed you."

He stopped short, and so did she. It hadn't been what he had meant to say, though that was not to say that it wasn't the truth, nor how he would have said it had he meant to. But there was no taking it back now. _Might as well keep going_, he thought.

"Did you…?"

She avoided his gaze, her eyes turning instead to the closed blinds over the window to the operating room, but she quietly said, "For the first couple years. It didn't make any sense, especially since I was so afraid of what you had become. But I did, I missed the you that I had known since the Shaw found Johanna and I. Then, after a few years, I began to accept that you hadn't been my Erik in a very long time."

He nodded in understanding, pressing forward even as he knew he might regret it, "I never stopped loving you."

Erik watched as her jaw clenched, her eyes fluttering closed, but not before he saw the tears forming there. It was as though her entire posture went rigid. He got the faintest impression that if he were to nudge her right then, she would shatter like a vase dropped on the floor.

"I know," she said, her eyes still shut tight. "But tell me this, at least: if that's true, why did you feel the need to prove that everyone was right about us?"

Erik winced as he remembered the whispers of neighbors who thought he and Magda couldn't hear them or couldn't understand their words. So many had believed he was too old for her, especially when they had married so young, and the others who thought he would break her heart. They were already the outcasts – the Jew and the Gypsy – and yet people had still speculated as to how compatible they had been.

"I never meant to," he confided. "Somewhere along the way, I lost sight of what I had always loved, and I let Shaw's hatred affect me. You have to believe me when I say that it was never my intention to hurt you or Anya."

When she finally met his eyes, the already sable hue growing darker, he realized he was opening himself up to the one question he had refused to answer even to himself. But this wasn't about him, nor was it even about reconciling, as he now realized that there was no mending what they had once had. This was about the closure they had both denied each other for over fifteen years.

"Then why did you lie? Why did you take her to the Brotherhood, knowing I wanted her to stay away from it?"

He was silent as he thought over what his true reason was. Reaching into the pocket at his side, he pulled out his old photograph of Anya. Magda leaned over as he unfolded it, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion, but she gave a soft gasp as she saw what it was.

It was the photo he had taken of her and their little girl on their last day together before he had gone on the hunt of Shaw. Anya had only been four years old at the time, but she had been thrilled with the picnic in the woods. She stood directly in front of the camera, presenting a slightly mangled bouquet of flowering weeds that she had ripped from the grass, with Magda just visible a few feet back. Her amused smile was even still visible in the photo.

"You were wrong when you said I was trying to make Anya into a soldier," he told her, handing her the photograph. "That was never on my mind. I took her to meet the Brotherhood because, the day her mutation manifested, she looked so scared and alone. I wanted her to know that she wasn't alone, that there were hundreds of people like her."

Magda's fingers shook as she clutched the photo, her thumb brushing over the image of their daughter, almost as if she could touch her through the image. A few tears hit the back of her hands, but she didn't move to brush them away.

"If I had known she would try to become more like them, as strong as they were, I would have told her that she was already perfect. I suppose I should have known. After all, she was rather like you – always trying to prove herself when everyone could already see it."

"Why did you lie?" she whispered, unable to tear her eyes from Anya's beaming face. "If that was your intention, why did you hide it from me?"

"I was under the impression that the only reason you had been subjected to Shaw's experiments was because Johanna and your father were mutants. You had led me to believe that it had somehow skipped you, that you had undergone all of Shaw's torture without having a gift you could rely on, and so I thought our mutations might remind you of that. It's why I almost never used my mutation in the house."

"The path to hell is paved with good intentions," she muttered with a sharp laugh.

"What?"

"That was why I hid my mutation from you, remember?" she asked, finally looking up at him with a watery smile. "I thought that, after Shaw, you wouldn't want a reminder of what we had been through. I guess we're more alike than I thought."

He nodded in consent, not bothering to voice his opinion on the matter. Maybe they shared the same view on protecting each other but, in his eyes, they would always be very different people. While not the ray of eternal optimism that Charles seemed to be on most days, she certainly had more faith in humanity than Erik likely ever would. He could understand now why she and Charles had gotten along so well.

"You asked me why I came looking for you after all these years," he said suddenly, feeling as though he might as well tell her this, as long as they were being completely honest with each other. "I wasn't lying, but I wasn't being entirely truthful, either. It wasn't just that I wanted to see you again. I wanted to make sure that you were okay, that Charles and I hadn't finally broken you, especially after the…the speech I broadcasted."

"It'll take a lot more than your lies to kill me," she scoffed half-heartedly, handing back his photo.

"I know that now, but I wanted to be sure," he told her. "It would have been just another thing I would never forgive myself for." – when she didn't reply, Erik took it as a sign to continue – "I know no apology I make will ever make up for what I did. I know you will never look at me in the same way as you did when we were young. But…I also know that I have loved you since we were children, and I don't know if I can ever stop."

"Oh, Erik," Magda breathed, wiping away her tears at last. "In the end, it doesn't matter if we loved each other or not. What we had was codependency. We were all we had left after the war, and we were afraid to let go of each other because of it, even when we were hurting each other.

"I can't remember a time when I didn't love you. I have loved you all my life, even when I hated you, and I probably always will. But a friend told me not too long ago that there is a very big difference between loving someone and being _in_ love with someone. And I've realized now that we were never in love with each other for very long at all."

Erik wanted to object, to tell her that she was wrong, but he couldn't find it in himself to do so. It would have felt false, like another beautiful lie to tell both to her and to himself, because he could see that she was right.

"I don't blame either of us for that," she continued. "We were too young to know better and, when we were told otherwise, we dismissed the words, because that's what we have done all our lives. People have tried to tell us who we are and we do all that we can to prove them wrong." – she gave an almost relieved laugh – "I'm actually glad that you came with Dmitri. It was about time we had this conversation."

He nodded, "I'll respect your wishes this time around. You thought it best to raise the twins away from me, and perhaps you were right to do so. I wasn't in the mindset to raise children. After we find them, I'll leave you in peace. I promise."

"I don't want that," she said with a shake of her head. "You were right when you said you had a right to know them. I think it's time I told them the truth."

Erik looked at her incredulously, his mind frenziedly trying to search for something to say in response to her words. But, before he could come up with anything that could entirely encompass what he thought of that, the door to Dmitri's room opened and an agent stepped out.

"Ms. Eisenhardt, Mr. Lehnsherr," the agent greeted, looking a little on edge. "Mr. Maximoff is stable, and demanding to speak with you. He's actually threatening to teleport into this room if we don't let you in."

Erik and Magda – _no, _he thought to himself, _her name is Nikki now_ – exchanged a glance. Of course Dmitri would be threatening to do something reckless, as he had a penchant for putting himself into dangerous situations. It was probably why he had gotten shot in the first place. They followed the agent into the room silently, the medical staff exiting as they did.

Dmitri was lying in a halfway reclined cot, his face paler than usual, but he looked no less lively. Or less livid. It seemed like the only thing keeping him in the cot, aside from fatigue, was one of the nurses holding his shoulder down.

"I don't care if I rip the stitches," he snapped. "Magda needs to know!"

As he made to pull away from the nurse, Nikki rushed forward and pushed him back against the mattress, "I'm right here. Do me a favor and don't hurt yourself any more than you already have."

Catching sight of her, Erik watched as Dmitri simultaneously calmed down and lit up. His hand gripped hers and he gave a broad smile.

"I found them," he said excitedly.

"You should calm down," Erik suggested. "You came in, bleeding to death on the floor."

"Bah! It was three bullets," Dmitri snapped. "My death will not be to bleed out."

"It might be if you don't lie still," Nikki murmured.

"I found them," he repeated. "The kids, the base, the guards. I know where they are. What is the date?"

"The date?"

"_Da_. How long was I gone?"

"Five days."

Dmitri barked out a laugh, "Found the right time and all it took was a near-death experience. Wonder what it means…"

"It means you need better focus," Erik snapped, more irritated that Dmitri would make light of the situation than the fact that his mutation was poorly managed. "Where are they?"

"Colorado," Dmitri told them. "Deep underground bunker in Mount Charteris, outside of Burton Canyon. It is huge. I tried to find where they were keeping them, but only found monitors of the cells."

"Inform Agent Coulson and the Avengers of this," Nikki told the nurse before returning her attention to Dmitri.

"How can we know they're not moving," Erik pointed out. "They knew we were searching, and now they know we've found them, so what makes you believe they haven't been planning to disappear elsewhere?"

Nikki shook her head, "There are too many people they'd have to take. Transporting fourteen mutants and an Asgardian would be impractical, not to mention the risk of a few of them escaping. They'll likely up their security rather than trying to move."

Dmitri nodded, "Besides, it is much easier to defend a bunker under a mountain than open transit vehicles."

"We should get ready," she said. "The sooner we get on our way, the less time we give them to prepare."

"And the less time we have to prepare ourselves," Erik pointed out. "Be reasonable, Magda."

"I am being reasonable," she snapped. "Don't think that, just because you hunted Shaw for four years, means that you know anything about strategy."

"Then don't think that you know anything of it when all you've read are the books in Charles's study."

"Would you two stop!" Dmitri snapped, drawing both of their gazes. "What is the time?"

"Time?" Nikki echoed.

Erik thought back to the last time he had checked the time, "A little after eleven, give or take. Why would that matter?"

Dmitri gave a lopsided grin, "Because I interrupted an early dinner."

Erik and Nikki exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between them, and they turned to walk out.

"You're welcome!" Dmitri called after them.

Erik watched as Nikki stopped and quickly walked back to the side of his cot. Brushing his hair back from his face, she pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Thank you, _batya_," she said, smiling. "Get some rest while we're gone."

She pulled away and walked out a second later, leaving Erik to follow. Before he could, Dmitri was calling his name, and he stopped to look at his adoptive father one last time.

"Watch out for each other," Dmitri told him.

Erik nodded, "We will."


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two

**_Well, this chapter was supposed to have the kids back in it, but things happened. Dadmitri feels, to be specific. And I couldn't help but put that part in. Especially given what's going to happen in the next chapter, but the kids will definitely be in that one. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy! (Two or three more chapter left! *screams*)_**

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><p><em>"Anything worth having is worth fighting for."<em>

-Susan Elizabeth Phillips

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><p>Steve was walking down the hall towards the room where his uniform was stored when a sharp whistle caught his attention, and he turned to find the source of the sound. Ten feet away, laying on one of the cots in the hospital ward, Dmitri was looking straight at him through an open door. The Russian was waving animatedly for him to come over. Deciding that there was nothing wrong with the idea, he walked into the man's room.<p>

"Rogers?" he asked, giving a cough that wracked his body.

"Yes," Steve answered, taking a seat beside the man's cot. "Something I can help you with, Sergeant?"

"Ah, found that out, did you?" The Russian asked before waving his hand dismissively, "But I did not wish to talk about myself. We need to talk about you."

"Me?"

"Don't think I don't know about you and Magda – Nikki, however she calls herself now," he said, giving the ex-soldier a knowing grin. "I have been around long enough to know these things when I see them."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," Steve replied, feeling suddenly uncomfortable around the man who was, essentially, Nikki's father.

Dmitri gave a soft chuckle, one which very nearly became another cough, "You're a terrible liar - that's good. But I need you to listen to me well. Magda, she is like a daughter to me. Looking at her, you may see a woman who is both a mother and a fighter, but I still see the little girl I pulled out of Auschwitz. I have a picture, somewhere..."

The man leaned over the side of the bed as far as he could without tearing his stitches. There was the sound of a drawer opening, of several belongings rustling around inside, before he sat back up with a triumphant 'ah!'. A worn old black and white photograph was in his hands. He gave it to Steve, beaming like a proud parent.

The photograph was of three people. The first was obviously Dmitri, though he was younger by a good eight years and in a Soviet army uniform. A young boy stood next to him, clinging to his arm as though he might blow away in the wind, who was gaunt and had a haunted look about his eyes. A little girl was in Dmitri's arms. She was just as thin and frail-looking as the boy who Steve guessed was Erik, but she didn't look quite so plagued by her past. There was a fire in her dark eyes like she was ready for a fight even though she looked like she might break.

Dmitri tapped the photograph emphatically, just above the little girl's head, "That's her. My _solnyshka_. Did she ever tell you how I found her?"

Steve shook his head.

"They were the only two in a separate building from the other prisoners," he explained. "It was one of the scientific divisions in Auschwitz, right near Mengele's offices. The scientists who had worked there had not wanted us to find them, as they had set the building aflame, but I heard her. This little voice over the sound of bullets and screams. I shouldn't have been able to hear her at all.

"She was at the window, had broken the glass, and reaching through with bloody fingers. My German was poor back then, but I understood enough to learn that she wasn't alone. It took six men to break through Erik's cell, as he had collapsed from smoke inhalation. We searched for their families after the liberation, but we found no one. Magda was one of the few Roma left in the camp. They were put in an orphanage and, when the war was over, I adopted both of them. You see, they were inseparable in those days, but I could not leave them to only themselves."

Steve looked up from the photograph, "She saved Erik?"

"She saved both him and herself," Dmitri corrected. "I think, to some point, she was always saving Erik. After the war, he didn't talk often, he often disassociated from his surroundings, wouldn't eat. It was always Magda who brought him back. She was always so strong, just in a different way."

Steve looked back down at the photo, his eyes trailing to the young boy that had been Erik. It was then that he noticed the boy wasn't so much as clinging to Dmitri, as he had thought before, as reaching towards the girl. It was as though he needed to know she was near to feel at ease.

"They still love each other as they did in the camps," Dmitri pointed out. "But the marriage they had is gone now. What she has with you – now that, Captain Rogers, is what interests me."

"What she has with me?"

That knowing smile returned to his face, "I've seen how you look at her, how you try to regain her trust. And I've seen how she looks at you. From what they tell me of you, you seem like a good man. But I will say this once. If you are going to keep going after her, I expect you to watch out for her. She doesn't need a caretaker, but-"

"I know," Steve said, handing the photograph back. "She doesn't need anything or anyone, not in that sense. I don't intend to be her protector."

"Good," Dmitri laughed. "What she needs is someone to stand beside her, as an equal. I'd like to think that might be you. But I will warn you, break her heart..."

"You'll break something of mine," Steve finished, giving an understanding nod.

"No, I won't. But Magda will."

For a split second, Dmitri's face was completely composed and his eyes seemed to narrow on him. Steve shifted slightly in his chair after a second, causing the older man's expression to break into a teasing smile, and they both laughed. Dmitri gave him a pat on the shoulder and nodded towards the door.

"Hurry, Rogers, and have her back for me, yes?"

Steve gave a nod, "You can count on it, sir."

Dmitri nodded, his mouth stretching into a lazy smile as he laid back against the cot, "Good."

Taking it as a dismissal, Steve stood up and gave a slight wave goodbye as he left the room. Although it wasn't the most important aspect of the day to be thinking of, especially given as they were perhaps an hour and a half away from raiding a HYDRA base, but it was somewhat reassuring that Nikki's father approved of him. The thought brought a smile to his face as he turned the corner and entered the armory.

Putting on his uniform had become something of an automatic series of actions, the motions more like reflexes due to force of habit. But as he clicked the star-shaped belt into place, running his fingers over the white _A, _he couldn't help but wonder if it was a bit tasteless when working alongside two Holocaust survivors. After all, they had been persecuted out of fascist extremism. Deciding he would talk to Tony about a less ostentatious uniform later, he pulled the helmet over his head and fastened the belt beneath his chin.

As he walked out, he caught sight of Erik Lehnsherr in the same deep purple armor and asymmetrical cape as before. The man's green-grey eyes scanned over Steve analytically, his eyebrows raising in skepticism, and Steve couldn't help but bristle at the scoff he received.

"Bit much, isn't it?" he asked, falling into step with Steve as they made their way to one of the hangars.

"It could be worse," Steve replied, his tone carefully level as he watches Erik out of the corner of his eyes. "I could be wearing purple."

Much to his surprise, Erik didn't snap any retorts back at him. Instead, the older man began to laugh, shaking his head as he looked down at the floor.

"So you do have a sense of humor," Erik murmured, his expression going somber after a minute. "You should know that you were right."

"About?"

"About Nikki," Erik said, the name sounding almost foreign on his tongue. "I came here with the belief that she would be the same woman I had known all my life and I took that as a justification for disregarding the truth about her. I should have trusted her to make her own decisions long before now. I thought it only right to say thank you. For respecting her when I couldn't."

"I take it you're going to spend some time here after we get the kids back?"

Erik nodded, "I have much to do back home, but I can spare a few weeks. And Nikki seems to be more open to the idea."

Steve stopped, allowing a friendly smile to cross his lips as he held his hand out to Erik, "Then, welcome to the family."

Erik looked at Steve skeptically, as though he still wasn't entirely certain he could trust Steve, but he slowly took his hand. Before either of them can say anything, Tony comes barreling through both of them, his suit on and his faceplate retracted, forcing the two apart.

"No time for bromance," he announced, grinning like a cat who had eaten the canary. "Romanoff's got the quinjet up and running for us. Bruce isn't coming along for this one, kept worrying that he might accidentally collapse a wall on the kids, so we're just waiting on you two."

"Where's Nikki?" Steve asked. "We can't leave without her."

"I'm right here."

Both men spun around at the sound of her voice, both staring in shock at the sight before them. Nikki stood with her arms crossed, looking for all the world as if she was extremely unamused by the both of them. They couldn't stop staring anyway. She was in a catsuit quite like Natasha's, all black and a zipper running down the front, but her's is sleeveless and zipped all the way up its high neck. It was paired with combat boots that laced up almost to her knees, fingerless gloves made of interlocking metal plates, and a long cloak of what looked like black silk. It was sleeker than her vigilante outfit, but reminiscent of it enough that she wouldn't be mistaken for someone else in public. And it clung to her like a second skin, accentuating every curve.

She sighed at the both of them, walking into the hangar as she said, "Come on, boys, we've got a job to do."

Steve was vaguely aware of Erik turning to watch her go as he does the same. He jumps at the sound of metal smacking metal, his eyes turning to Erik just in time to see that Tony had slapped the man on the shoulder.

"I know," Tony said with a laugh. "She's built like a brick shithouse. Makes you jealous of this guy, doesn't it?"

As he said it, he gave Steve a soft smack on the chest with the back of his hand, walking after Nikki. Left with that, Steve looked up to see Erik staring at him with an almost irate edge to his expression. His jaw even twitched.

"Right," Steve said, hoping he didn't sound as awkward as he felt. "Better get going then."

If there's the slightest push he gets from the metal on his uniform and shield, neither Steve nor Erik bother to mention it.

* * *

><p>Nikki's foot tapped against the floor of the quinjet in an anxious rhythm as Natasha announced how close they were to Mount Charteris. As if on cue, Steve could feel the atmosphere almost shift around them, and he placed a hand on her shoulder.<p>

"Cabin pressure's rising," Clint called over his shoulder. "Everything all right back there, Eisenhardt?"

"Sorry," she shouted back, taking a deep breath.

"You okay?" Steve asked.

"I've never done anything like this before," she confided. "The vigilantism, that was small scale. This is so far out of my league, so..." - she waved towards both his and her uniforms - "I'm not like you guys. I'm not a superhero."

"Lavar Johnson."

Both looked up at Tony, confused by the outburst. Even Erik, who had been toying with something shiny in his hands, and Thor turned their attention towards Tony.

"What?"

"The 7-Eleven cashier whose life you saved, that first time you were caught on camera in a black hoodie and a ratty pair of jeans," Tony explained. "That night you kept him from having a bullet in his head, knocked out those two gunmen trying to rob the place, he told every local newspaper that you were the one to save him - even though he hadn't seen your face. You're a superhero to him."

"That's not what that-"

"Lily Tyler, Farrukh and Shabnam Aladray, Isabella Hernandez, Michael Jones, Enzo Arlotti, Mohinder Kapoor, Olivia and April Robinson, Katherine Treval, Elliot de la Viez," Tony continued. "All of them, and their families, see you as a hero. Do you know what happened when word got out that S.H.I.E.L.D. had you imprisoned and the HYDRA video was put on Youtube?"

Nikki frowned at that, "No..."

"You were the biggest issue on social media," Tony told her. "Bigger than me, and that's impressive. '#freethealchemist' was a trending topic for days. So say you're nervous - hell, say you're terrified - but don't bother trying to say you're not a hero. You've had that one down for years."

"But this is HYDRA, a neo-Nazi group with innumerable followers," she pointed out. "Not a couple of robbers with a gun."

Tony gave a vague shrug, "Eh. Same thing, just slightly bigger. Besides, we've got the Nazi killer" - he gestured towards Erik with a wink - "and the guy who punched out Hitler over a hundred times on our side."

Nikki looked at him blankly, her eyes narrowing before she turned to Steve, "What?"

Steve turned red as he realized Tony was referencing his USO days, but was thankfully saved from having to explain it as the quinjet landed and the cargo door slid open. All of them hit unbuckled and stood up, with the exception of Thor, who never seemed to sit down inside planes, and Tony, whose suit just didn't fit into the seats.

"Okay," Clint said, standing up and shouldering his quiver. "We know the base is underground, but Dmitri wasn't able to give us an exact location so we're going to have to-"

But Steve stopped listening as Nikki nudged his arm, nodding towards Erik with a grin. Erik stood facing the mountain, and subsequently away from the Avengers, with his eyes closed. But there was something in his expression that made him look almost contemplative. Then his lips tugged into a victorious grin, his eyes opening as he looks down at the ground a few feet away. He raised his hand towards the spot, his attention solely on the ground as though he was looking at something beyond the grass, and curled his fingers inward.

"Lehnsherr," Clint said suddenly, his previous sentence trailing off. "What the fuck are-"

The rest of his words were swallowed by a loud screeching noise as the ground before Erik erupted and something large flew up into the air. Nikki threw up her arm, causing the dirt flying towards the Avengers to slide over them in a perfect arc. Whatever had flown from the ground, a large metal rectangular sheet from the looks of it, was levitated down to the side of the hole with a steady wave of Erik's hand. Echoing from the hole, Steve could just make out the sound of several alarms going off.

Looking as though he had simply opened a door, Erik turned to the others and said, "There it is."

Tony, Thor, Steve, Natasha, and Clint all looked to Nikki as if for some explanation. Instead of answering, she looked to Erik.

"How deep is it?"

"This just leads to the first level," he explained. "There seem to be seven or eight different floors, but the elevator shaft goes further. There's another series of rooms down there, but there's not enough metal, I can't tell how much is down there."

She nodded, "Right. Let's go then, since we've pretty much announced our arrival."

Without waiting for a reply, Nikki walked straight for the hole and leapt in. Erik followed her shortly after.

"Well," Tony said quietly. "That went smoothly."

"Lady Nikki is correct," Thor announced, stepping towards the hole. "Much can happen while we sit idly here."

Steve nodded, following Thor and leaping into the hole. It wasn't that far to the floor, only eighteen or so feet, and Erik slowed down his descent for him. Natasha and Clint followed him, their weapons at the ready. But Nikki and Erik seemed to have down well without them. It seemed they had broken into a managerial section, what with the rows of desks and computers, and the handful of HYDRA agents cowering in the far corner of the room seemed to be unarmed. To be far, Steve wasn't certain how brave he would be had he been faced with Nikki, who had fire swirling around her fingertips, and Erik, who was levitating everything in the room that had even the slightest amount of metal.

"Where are they?" Nikki shouted, her voice more commanding than angry.

None of the HYDRA agents made a move, just staring at the Avengers with wide eyes. To further her point, the temperature of the room drops, a humming noise erupting as sparks of white fly from Nikki's skin. She lunged forward just a step and the white sparks condensed into a single line as they flew towards the wall above the agents' heads. Lightning, Steve realized, she created lightning.

"I asked you bastards a question!"

Before any of the agents can answer, a door across from the Avengers slides open, revealing several rows of armed agents.

"Erik..."

There was just a second before the cacophony when Steve could hear Erik say, "They're not metal."

The sound of a hailstorm of bullets was met with the scream of metal being tugged towards them as Erik made a makeshift shield for them. The bullets pushed into the metal sheeting, creating round indentions, but they didn't break through.

"They're not metal?" Natasha asked, shouting over the noise to be heard.

Erik shook his head, "I can't stop them."

"They knew we were coming," Nikki snapped. "They expected us at some point. Why else would they even develop a gun perfectly suited for Erik?"

"Looks like we've got some double agents to weed out," Clint said, looking towards Natasha. "Just like Xuzhou."

Nikki shook her head irritably, "I'm clearing the way."

Just as she moved to get up, Steve grabbed her hand. She looked back for a second, the anger in her dark eyes giving way just enough for him to see her confusion, and gave her a reassuring nod.

"Be careful," he said.

The corner of her lips tugged into a smile and she nodded in understanding. As he let go of her hand, she phased through the metal sheet and was gone into the fray.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three

**_I can't even begin to say how sorry I am, guys. This chapter did not want to be written. At all. And then there's college, which has been eating all of my time, but here it finally is. I'll go back and clean it up once I'm done writing it._**

**_Oh! And kudos to anyone who can guess who are not-so-unfriendly HYDRA agent is._**

* * *

><p>Erik cursed under his breath as he watched Nikki phase through the metal sheeting with hardly a second thought, feeling as powerless as he had when he had watched his daughter die. The second the men had walked into the room, bearing guns that he couldn't feel the in the same way he could feel most others, he had known he could do very little to save his comrades. Now Nikki was abandoning what little safety he could provide in a reckless step closer to the children she cared for so deeply.<p>

His instincts had been telling him to leave the wall up, to bring the desks and computers crashing down on the HYDRA agents beyond, effectively clearing the way for them. But now Nikki was on the other side and he couldn't do anything from behind the wall unless he wanted to take the chance of hitting her. Making a split second decision, Erik wrenched a hole in his wall and ran through. He'd be damned before he'd let Nikki go up against armed soldiers on her own, regardless of how her mutation might help when his couldn't.

They weren't shooting at him. That thought struck him the second he was on the other side, quickly followed by the question of what the HYDRA agents were shooting at if not him. He got his answer looking to the crowd of people at the far edge of the room. Nikki had pushed herself into the thick of the fray, disintegrating the bullets which approached her and burning any hand which came near her, effectively drawing their fire. He could hear the Avengers following him as he rushed forward, pulling what metal he could from the walls and ceiling to take out the agents on the edges of the crowd.

As the agents thinned out, brought down by the bullets and repulsor beams, Erik watched in horror as Nikki turned to the door they had come from. Throwing her hand towards it, the panels blew backwards and into the other room. She wasted no time in disappearing through it. Letting out a string of curses, Erik charged after her, dodging plastic bullets and pushing agents aside.

From behind him, over the din of the fight, he heard the Captain shouting, "Lehnsherr! Wait!"

He paid the man no mind. If Steve Rogers wanted to stand back and let Nikki run straight into danger without someone by her side, then he could do so. Erik wasn't going to. Avengers and teamwork be damned, regardless of how Nikki viewed their relationship, Erik was not the type of person to make the same mistake twice. He hadn't stood by her once and it had cost him more than he would ever regain. This time, he would make sure he was doing everything he could to keep her from getting hurt.

Beyond the door was a hallway, empty of all decoration, the walls lined only with rows of doors. At the far end was what looked to be another elevator. Or what used to be an elevator. The doors were gone, leaving only a gaping hole, and there was molten steel pooling on the floor where they were supposed to be. Cables hung limply from the ceiling of the elevator shaft, no doubt cut from the top of the car. Erik leaned over the edge of the landing, peering down into the seemingly endless dark as he tried to sense just how far it extended into the earth.

Giving a sigh, Erik stepped forward and into the darkness. His breath rushed from him in a gasp as the sense of weightlessness tugged his heart into his throat. Extending his arms as much as he could in the shaft, he subconsciously felt for the metal in his armor and willed it to slow his descent. It had only been a matter of seconds, less than a minute of nothing but darkness and wind and the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears, but it had been enough for a lifetime. He idly wondered if it had been similar to what Sean had experienced when he had pitched the boy off the side of the satellite. But that didn't matter now.

The elevator gave a soft groan as Erik landed on its roof, the sound of the stressed metal giving way under his weight echoed through the space ominously. He fell into the elevator car in a crouch. The lack of gunfire caught his attention immediately, the silence sending a chill through his veins, and he looked up to see Nikki standing stock-still in the middle of the room before him.

"Nikki?" he asked quietly, still wary of anyone who might be within earshot of them. "What are you doing?" - he glanced back towards the elevator - "What were you thinking? How are the others supposed to-"

He stopped suddenly, his eyes catching on what Nikki had been staring at all along. The wall across from them was covered in computer monitors and displays. On each one was a different photo or video, some of the images spanning across the lengths of two or three screens, some videos still playing in an endless loop. There was no sound, but there didn't need to be. Erik could practically hear the screams already. He was certain Nikki was hearing them, too, watching each pained expression with a voice to match.

A girl with auburn hair being pulled in different angles by apparatus, her body stretching like elastic as it pushed her mutation to the brink. A boy with wires pressed against his temples, the needles sticking just far enough off his skin to be seen, as he went through half a dozen transformations within seconds. A girl with blonde hair on an operating table, looking for all the world like one of the many victims Erik had seen back in Auschwitz. A man, older than all the rest, his salt and pepper hair hanging limp and dirty around his face. His eyes were hollow as he stared at the ground, his arms and legs bound by intricate silver chains that held him suspended in the room, looking like a man slowly losing hope. There were angry red marks where he had obviously tried to pry off the silver collar around his throat.

Erik suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe. And this time it wasn't Nikki, it wasn't the pressure in the room rising or the oxygen being pulled away. It was being face to face with something he hadn't thought of in such vivid detail in decades.

"Thanks for waiting, guys," a voice said behind him, trailing off before being followed by a quiet, "Fuck..."

Nikki was trembling. She hadn't moved an inch, her eyes glued to the screens of her family, but her entire body seemed to quiver. Whether in grief or guilt or rage, Erik couldn't tell. And then he watched as her fingers clenched into hard fists, her knuckles white against the red that ran down from her palms, and the screens shattered all at once. He couldn't see her face when she turned around at last. He can't see her eyes, her hood too far down over her face, but there is a hardness in her jaw and a tension in her shoulders that he's never seen before. Erik doesn't hesitate to step out of her way as she walks towards the door behind him.

She doesn't move her hand, but the doors almost seem to implode, crumpling and folding in on themselves like paper until they are gone from his sight. They aren't even gone before she's walking down the hall, her gait slow and concise, the sound of her heeled boots clicking down the hallway.

Erik glances back at the Avengers, barking out, "Check the other doors. We're not leaving until we've found them all."

Without waiting for their response, he goes after Nikki, knowing that they'll be irritated by the two. But he has more important things to worry about. Screams from further down the hallway only spur him on. They're erratic, incoherent, emphatic - like those of an animal in pain. And there's more than one voice he can hear. Most importantly, they're not just in his head.

His breathing seems too loud, his pace not fast enough, even though he's sprinting now. Footsteps and screaming, blood and metal on his tongue, present and past seem to merge together as he nears the end of the hall. He can't keep them straight anymore. He's in Auschwitz, in Shaw's laboratory - no, in Colorado, in an underground base - no, in Volchansk, amidst the smoke and ashes of their home. He's-

He was staring in disbelief at what he was seeing.

Nikki stood in the very center of the room, the walls and floors splattered with a fine layer of blood like a Jackson Pollock painting. Before her, suspended in the air ten feet off the ground, a HYDRA agent flailed silently as though he was choking. Nikki was staring up at him, her hood slipping off her head and her dark curls whipping around her face from a wind that wasn't there.

"Nikki," he said slowly, not taking a step closer to the two. "What are you doing? What have you done?"

"What does it look like?"

Erik didn't answer, too startled by the emptiness in her tone. She didn't sound like the same person anymore. There was something familiar about it, something which told him that he had heard that indescribable edge in someone else's voice, but he couldn't remember who. He couldn't tell who she sounded like.

"For a long time, Erik, I thought you were heartless," she said suddenly, tilting her head at the agent above her. "I thought you were too cynical, too hard and unforgiving. That you looked at the world and all you saw was the hatred and misery we were raised in. I thought I could see some light in this world that you couldn't. But you were right.

"They're all the same. Five years, ten, fifty, another goddamn universe, it doesn't matter. The only species in the whole world that does things purely out of spite, out of hatred, wanting to hurt others simply for the sake of hurting them. And they will hunt us down every time, flay us alive just to see what makes us special. What makes us superior. They'll never be satisfied."

She sounded like him.

The revelation hit him like a blow to the stomach. She sounded like him, before Trask and the Sentinels, before Charles had let him go, back when she had fled from their home in fear. And it was terrifying.

She had always been the one to see the good in others, to forgive and forget, even when those around her spit in her face and called her by nasty words. She had always been the light, the fire, the passion, of their relationship. But Erik couldn't see that in the woman before him anymore. It was like he had so often hoped, for her to stand by his side and see his reasoning. To support his beliefs whole-heartedly.

Then she glanced over her shoulder to look at him with an expression as cold as her voice. Her eyes were bloodshot, the red nearly blotting out the whites entirely, and her pupils were blown so wide that her eyes looked black.

"We should have shown them what we were capable of from the start, instead of hiding away from them all."

He didn't want her to side with him anymore.

"You don't believe that."

"I don't?"

"I know you don't," he answered, finally taking a step forward. "I know you."

He couldn't see her expression anymore, but he could hear the anguish in her voice when she said, "Then you should know that I've had enough. Why should I suffer more at the hands of people like this? Why should I watch as they take everyone away from me? They took my family, my parents and my sister, they took Anya, took you, took away every boy of eighteen at the school, took away Charles, tried to take my life twice. I can't let them take anyone else from me. If I have to burn this miserable world to the ground to stop them - I won't let them take anyone else."

"This isn't you."

"Maybe it always was," she murmured. "Do you know what Shaw used to call me? His beautiful destruction. He didn't even know about my mutation - that much I managed to keep from him - but he was certain I was something special. Why else would my sister have tried to protect me so desperately? Maybe that is why I hid it from you. I didn't want you to see what I truly was."

"I already knew what you truly are. Even then, I knew."

"You didn't even know I was a mutant," she snapped. "How can you say you know me?"

"Because we grew up together," he pointed out. "Because we lived together for years. We may have never seen eye to eye, but I always knew you. Just as you knew me. Let him down."

Her fist tightened, causing the HYDRA agent to shake like a rag doll, as she spat out, "This is one of the men who hurt my family, who hurt our children, and you want me to let him go?"

"Yes."

"You would have told me to rip him apart not that long ago."

Erik shook his head, taking the final step in closing the distance between them, "Not that long ago, you told me that I couldn't end cruelty with violence. That starting a war wouldn't prevent another."

He placed his hand on her shoulder, trailing his fingers down her arm until he gently closed them around her hand. She was crying, fury and grief clear in her eyes, but she wouldn't look at him. He stepped forward, feeling her tremble against him with each shuddering breath she took.

"I know they've hurt you, that they've hurt your family, but don't do this," he pleaded, keeping his voice soft. "Lashing out in anger will only end in something you'll regret for the rest of your life. I would know."

She looked at him at last, disbelief and indecision replacing the anger and fear that had been clear on her face before. Erik dragged their hands down, pulling her close against his chest with his free hand, and rested his chin atop her head. He had forgotten how it felt to hold her, how she fit perfectly against him. But that wasn't what was important anymore. He had his life, she had hers, and he would respect her decision this time around.

"You were always too kind for the world," he whispered. "For this one and ours. Don't let them take that from you. Don't let the world make you into something you're not."

The HYDRA agent, gasping and wheezing as if he would never get enough oxygen, fell to the floor in a crumpled heap with a heavy thud. He didn't move from where he landed, perhaps too afraid of finding himself as the subject of Nikki's ire once more. But Erik didn't care. He was more focused on Nikki as she pulled away at last.

Wiping a tear from her cheek, he gave her a reassuring nod, "Alright?"

She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath, before saying, "Yeah."

"Right. Now," Erik announced, lifting the HYDRA agent to his feet by the straps in his uniform and bringing him forward until their faces were only inches apart. "Where are the kids?"

When all he could seem to do was stammer and shake his head, blue eyes blown wide with fear, Nikki pressed two fingers to his throat. The man screamed as angry red boils bloomed across his skin like morbid flowers, expanding outward from where Nikki's skin was in contact with his.

"He asked you a question," she snapped. "And you don't want me to have to repeat it."

"We-we-we had to move them apart," he managed. "They were c-c-communicating somehow, but they stopped when - well, Whitehall figured it out. Subject-Oh-Three isn't a mutant at all, ac-actually an Asgardian. Agent 27 stole some of the...stuff that Thor left after the Battle of New York. We p-p-p-put them on Oh-Three, communications stopped."

Erik frowned at the agent's words, trying to make sense out of what was being said.

"Who's Whitehall?" he demanded, his words almost lost as Nikki said, "You found a way to stop Bali's magic?"

The agent nodded fervently, "Whitehall did. Big deal kinda guy, been in the organization for decades - since the start. Head scientist from like the science division, I don't know. I'm just a janitor."

Erik turned to Nikki, "Why this one?"

She shrugged, "The others kept going on about cutting off heads. He's the only one that begged for help, said he wanted out."

"Then why didn't you just leave?" Erik snapped at the man.

He recoiled visibly, almost shouting, "It's HYDRA! They would've killed me!"

"I'm still debating whether or not to do that myself," Erik snarled.

"Av-v-vengers don't kill people..."

"We're not Avengers," he said, letting the man drop back on his feet. "Now, you're going to lead us to where you're keeping every mutant or we're going to find out just how much iron you have in your blood."

The agent blanched at his words, catching on to the implications of what Erik was saying, but only nodded in understanding. He wasted no time in turning around and hurrying towards one of the doors. As he rested his hand on the doorknob, he turned around and looked at them.

"You know there are more of them the deeper you go?" he asked. "They really take the whole 'cut off one head, two more take its place' schtick seriously."

"Then I guess I'll burn the whole beast," Nikki said, flames sparking into existence at her fingertips as if in emphasis.

The man sighed as he turned the doorknob and, as he was walking through, Erik could've sworn he heard the agent mutter, "Knew I should've stayed at A.I.M. At least they had dental..."


End file.
